


Just Us

by Nanyoky



Series: Just Us [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Annie's POV, Annie-Centric, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, References to Child Abuse, if you know the story you know what you're in for is my general warning, most objectionable material will not be explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 62,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanyoky/pseuds/Nanyoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's just us now. You don't know yet, but you will. After, we're the only safe ones."<br/>They may not understand it right away, but after a tribute becomes a Victor, other Victors are all they have left. Annie Cresta never seriously thought about being a tribute, let alone a Victor. Once she is, she'll learn fast.</p><p>Follows Annie's story from her reaping day to post-Mockingjay life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reaping Day

**Author's Note:**

> If you had told me two months ago I'd be writing multi-chapter Hunger Games fic, I would have laughed. But here we are.  
> This fic is born of my curiosity and frustration when it comes to Annie Cresta. I think she's a very interesting character, who often gets painted as a stereotype- more out of a lack of material to go off of than any fault of the fandom. So, fair warning, I'll be portraying Annie a little differently than you may be used to seeing her. To each their own and no hard feelings if it's not your speed.  
> This fic may include a few companion one-shots now and again from other characters' perspectives, so watch out for those. I will try to post a link in the notes of the chapter they most closely coincide with.

Four didn't work like the other career districts. Everyone received training. It started as a way to give their children a fighting chance, then evolved as people craved the pride and prestige of One and Two. The eligible children were ranked according to ability and marketability. It didn't take long for Four to realize Victors looked a certain way. Most years, the trainers and mentors would pick children in the top rank to be that year's tributes. The chosen fighters would volunteer regardless of who was reaped. If they chose to save the more promising boy or girl for another year, then each class had their chance to take the spot, starting from the highest level downward.

Annie was in the fifth rank. There were ten. At seventeen, it was unlikely she would move up enough to get anywhere near the arena in the next year. It had never been her greatest wish to be one of the careers picked out to volunteer, but she had thought about it. Everyone thought about it. She entertained brief fantasies where all the more capable athletes in her district watched, slack jawed, as she surpassed everyone's expectations and won the Games. But ultimately, she knew she was not a Victor.

Victors were like Finnick Odair: too young, but in the highest rank so no one volunteered for him. Everyone expected it to be an off year for Four, more time for the rest to hone their skills, but the kid had cashed in on his wide eyes and straight teeth like no one else before and suddenly Four had its most famous Victor since Mags Cohen. She'd mentored the kid, so most people attributed at least part of the win to her. But they were sick with pride over having the youngest Victor in the history of the Games. It was enough to keep them sated for five years without another, but they needed a strategy now.

When Annie's name was called, she didn't even flinch, but walked up to the stage and took her place on one side of the escort. She counted under her breath.

One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand.

No one from the highest rank took her place.

One, two, three. No one from the second.

One, two, three. Third.

One. Two. Three. Fourth. Still, someone from her rank might want it. Someone more ambitious. She still didn't seriously consider herself a possible tribute.

One, two, three.

And that was it. Annie Cresta was the female tribute from district Four, and she smiled incredulously as the crowd gave her her due applause.

~

"Just stick with me, alright Cresta? You don't have anything to worry about. Barely anyone pays attention to the reapings and no one really gets how Four works. For all they know, you're like every other career."

Drift Hurley was the male tribute. He was only in the second rank, but he volunteered for the twelve year old in the ninth rank that had actually been reaped. Annie thought he could do with a little humility. He talked to her like a tag along.

After the reaping, they had been led to separate rooms to say goodbye to their families. Her parents had come in together, gripping each other's hands with white fingers.

"I just don't believe it." Her mother's voice was faint. "Five ranks, and not one volunteer."

It wasn't unheard of, but it was certainly rare. None of her friends from class came to say goodbye. It stung, even if she wasn't surprised. It seemed like no time at all before they left and Annie was taken to the train. Their escort led them to the dining car and made a show of bustling off to collect their mentors.

"Who do you think we'll get?"

"I dunno." It hadn't really occurred to Annie to wonder which of the district Four Victors would be instructing her. She'd never met any of them. Three men and five women. Adrian Firth, Dorian Murdock, and Finnick Odair. Mags Cohen, Nautica Moriarty, Coral Irwin, Miranda Serph, Lorraine Triton. Which one would half heartedly coach her towards death?

She was starting to see now. Drift may be more than a little pompous, but he was meant to be here. He knew what he was doing and had prepared for it for most of his life. To Annie, the training had been just another set of classes at school. She had done respectably well, but she never thought she would ever need the skills she had been learning. Only those who excelled actually went into the arena.

She listened to Drift prattle on about the pros and cons of each potential mentor, thinking lamely that she could somehow absorb his knowledge and skill through some kind of auditory osmosis. Finally the doors opened and their escort was back, dramatically introducing Mags Cohen and Finnick Odair. Annie raised her eyebrows. The youngest and the oldest Victors in the district. It felt like a gimmick. It probably was. She almost didn't hear them say that Drift would be led by Mags and Annie by Finnick.

She shook his hand as they all sat around the table.

"First of all, we won't be putting up with any of that separate training nonsense you see in some of the outlying districts," Mags started as she tore open the lobster tail on her plate. "You two are Careers, and Careers make alliances. If you can't get along with each other, we won't be any help to you hooking up with One and Two."

"Shouldn't be a problem. Me and Annie seem like we'll get along just fine."

"Yeah. Sticking together will be the easy part." Annie said the first thing that came to her mind, knowing silence would be taken as surliness. It wasn't until she said it and saw the grim smile on her mentor's lips that she realized what she meant. Could she kill Drift? She likely wouldn't have to. She'd most likely die early on, not having to worry about killing anyone at all. Annie picked at the clams and pasta on her plate.

"Good. So first off is image," Mags was on her second lobster tail. For pushing 80, the woman sure could eat. "Annie was actually reaped, so a more traditional Career persona is probably out of the question. But Drift can play that, if you want."

"Sure. Not much of a stretch."

"Good boy. As for Annie... what are you thinking, Finnick?"

Her mentor shrugged. "Fit, pretty, and I'm willing to guess pretty smart." He sounded like he was reading a product description. "I don't know. We could play any number of angles. But if it were solely my call I'd say girl next door who's starstruck by the chance to prove herself."

It could be worse. It could be a lot worse. Annie nodded. "I can do that. Am I funny?"

"Only if you actually are."

She found herself grinning. That was a relief. He didn't want her to be too artificial. She didn't think she could force a performance that was too far from herself.

"I like this dynamic," Mags nodded her approval. "They'll make a good pair this way. Not an odd couple, but not too alike either."

"Yes and I think it will actually fit with the wardrobes Virgilia and Antony were going with."

"Settled," Mags was more decisive than Annie had expected, and Finnick more reserved. "Now we'll have to watch the reapings after dinner to start taking some notes, but for now lets talk skill levels and weapons training."


	2. Parade Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a quick update, but I figure if I try to draw things out, I'll just lose steam. Thank you everyone who has left Kudos and commented so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well, I had a tiny bit too much fun designing Annie and Drift's district costumes.

Annie didn't have any trouble sleeping the night on the train. The initial talk with the mentors had boosted her confidence enough to bring back the dreams of glory. Images of her, laughing and tossing her hair in a charming fashion as she twirled in some beautiful Capital dress, invaded her dreams. A Victory Tour with all the food and parties they promised. And why not? She was Four wasn't she? Even tributes from Four who didn't volunteer did well. Some won. Why not Annie Cresta?

It was a fairly short train ride between Four and the Capital. She woke the next morning to her escort throwing up the shades on the window. There was still barely enough light to wake her.

"Up, up! Drift has been dressed and speaking with Mags for hours. You need to make the most of your time, Annie."

Feeling stupid and lazy, Annie pulled on a pre-matched outfit from the drawers and made her way to the dining car.

"Sorry," she muttered to Finnick, who was already pouring an illegal amount of sugar and milk into his coffee.

"Savor the sleep now, you won't sleep well in the arena, even with the pack."

Annie nodded and started to work spreading jam over toast.

"See you've got your appetite back."

"Figured I need all the strength I can get in the next week." She nodded at the sugar dusted pastries on his plate. "You eat that for breakfast?"

"Boy, you're going to make yourself fat." Mags swatted his shoulder on her way past, a set of thick folders in hand.

Finnick grinned at the old woman and gave Annie a wink. "That's the plan."

Annie giggled before she could stop herself. Great. Another teenage girl giggling at Finnick Odair, that's exactly what she needed to be taken seriously. Not that she and her school friends hadn't giggled at the handsome local celebrity once or twice, but no one needed to know that. And honestly, who in Panem hadn't?

"Will you turn it off so your tribute can focus? We've got a lot to go over and they'll be stuck in prep once we get there. Now, Finnick and I spent all night on the phones with the mentors from One and Two-"

~

After waving and smiling at the train station, Annie and Drift were swept off to the prep center. Annie was scrubbed and waxed until she was sure she had lost at least eight pounds in dead skin and body hair alone. Maybe not just the body hair.

"How on earth-" the stylist behind her grunted as he attempted to drag a comb through her hair.

"I've found it's better just to leave it," she tried not to let any tears squeeze from her eyes as he tugged.

"That won't do here, Miss Cresta."

They took her measurements while they worked, speaking in hushed voices to one another. Annie wasn't sure she liked them giggling about the logistics of her naked body. She tried to remind herself it wasn't personal and think only of how she and Drift were supposed to conduct themselves in the parade. Her instructions were "awe."

"Not slack-jawed gaping," Finnick had clarified. "But you're absolutely electrified by all the excitement. You can't stop smiling. This is everything you had dreamed of and more."

Drift was to be pleased, but cool. He might even tease her for her reaction in a friendly manner, and she might swat at his shoulder playfully.

The prep time took hours before she even met her stylist. Virgilia was a tall, proud looking woman of few words.

"I'm giving you a long skirt and flats, your ass doesn't need the help."

Annie resisted the urge to respond with a rude comment. Instead, she nodded. "Guess I won't trip then."

"Hair... I'll think of something. Likely pin it all up so it looks like we made that mess on purpose. I was hoping for a bare midriff, but I don't know..."

Annie scowled. Maybe she didn't have washboard abs like Finnick perfect-bastard Odair, but she was reasonably fit. She ignored the voice in the back of her mind pointing out that she would have been anxious and embarrassed if she actually had to go out with a bare midriff. It was the principle that counted.

"Makeup will definitely highlight the eyes," the woman's critical expression softened. "You do have lovely eyes. You can't do anything to fake that. Not even contacts and surgery would give someone eyes like yours." She let out a hefty sigh and cracked a smile. "Yes, I think I can make you a Victor in a week. And I don't say that about everyone."

Annie decided she liked Virgilia then, even if she had insulted her stomach. And her hair. And her ass.

After a rushed dinner, at which Mags and Finnick corrected their posture so frequently, Annie regretted every favorable thought she had ever had about either of them, they were hurried back to the prep center for final fitting, hair and makeup. Her team applied long, shaped additions to her nails, encrusted with jeweled shells and real pearls. They piled her hair on top of her head and wove in a gold net that came down to fall around her shoulders like a shawl. More jeweled shells and pearls hung from the net and whenever she moved, they made noises like bells- no. More decadent. A chandelier. The skirt was clearly made to look like thousands of iridescent scales, but flowing with sheer trails that fanned out to flutter like jellyfish trains. It came up to meet the airy, ruffled bodice, leaving just a peek of skin showing in a diamond over her sternum. As promised, her makeup served mostly as a signpost to her eyes.

"I'm a fish." She told her reflection when they finally let her look. "A fish in a net."

Virgilia tsked. "You're a mermaid. A very romantic image. Hinting of sensuality, but not promising anything carnal because we've hidden your legs." She sighed and sat at a low table, snatching up a multi-colored drink. "I'm brilliant."

Annie privately agreed. She wanted to live in this dress. She wanted to marry this dress. She would declare her undying loyalty and devotion to anything that made her feel like she was maybe a contender in these games, and this dress had done just that. She briefly entertained the idea of asking to wear it into the arena. Mags and Finnick's faces might be worth it.

"Well look at you!"

Drift must have just finished. His stylist had gone for the traditional Career route. His tunic was sleeveless, showing off his strong arms, and slit and laced loosely over the chest, like the kind of shirts sailors wore in the hot summer. Kohl around his eyes and leather cuffs around his wrists gave him a dashing, dangerous look. He spread out his arms.

"What do you think?"

"Go on then, spin."

He laughed and turned a slow circle while she whistled. "Now you."

She twirled like a dancer and he applauded as the skirt billowed and waved around her.

"We are going to have more sponsors than we know what to do with," he declared with all the confidence of the day before. But this time, the confidence was shared. "You know what? I think we're going to make it, Annie Cresta. You and me. We can do this."

Annie marveled at his ability to make it sound like there was a way they could both win. He wasn't stupid. He was likely thinking the same thing she was: 'please let someone else kill my partner so I can go home without the district hating me.' But the sentiment was one of kindness. 'We can do this.' Subtext: 'I'm going to do my damnedest to win, but if I go down, I'm confident you can take the win home.' Annie appreciated the pride on his face when he looked at her now. For all he had to die in order for her to live, she liked him. She wished they had met under different circumstances. Sure he could be a little condescending at first, but it was hard to avoid with Careers sometimes. At least his ego wasn't malicious, like some people in Four.

"It's time," Virgilia clapped her hands and steered them off to an elevator that opened beneath the ground. "Now, Mags and Finnick said things are looking good for One and Two, so chat them up while you wait if you'd like, but be sure you're by your chariot in ten."

"Ten minutes isn't much time to get to know someone," Annie muttered under the roaring of the crowd in the arena above.

"Want to just stick with the horses then?"

Annie nodded gratefully.

"That's fine. There'll be plenty of time during training."

She was glad they had stayed close, as it seemed only seconds later that the great doors swung open and One's horses began to trot up the slope.

"Ready, partner?"

"Ready."

They smiled and waved with the variations they had been instructed in. Annie gasped, wide-eyed as they cleared the gate. It wasn't entirely fake either. The stands were packed with Capital citizens wearing every color imaginable. And for the briefest of moments, every single one of them focused on her. She felt a bit sorry for the other districts, especially Three, stuck between two Careers and without a win since Beetee Latier in the 43rd games. They didn't get near the cheers that Four and the other Carriers got every year. It must be depressing. But her sympathy didn't last long when she heard more than one voice among the roar shouting her name.

Snow's speech was the same as usual. Annie barely listened. Instead, she focused on the screens that showed quick pans and cuts, displaying each of the tributes. Not for nothing, but she and Drift easily had some of the best costumes. Ten was drowning in what looked like gaudy purple cow hides, and Twelve was shivering in nothing but glittery black dust. In comparison, she must look like a queen.

Virgilia, Antony and the prep teams were there when the carriage returned, ready to shuffle them off to strip them of their costumes. Annie considered asking for her dress to be sent home to Four, just in case she lived to wear such a thing again. She didn't, but she planned to after, if there was an after.

At the tribute center, Mags was there to clap them on the backs. "Well done, you two. Perfect groundwork for your interviews. Get a good night's rest, you have training in the morning."

"Where's Finnick?" Drift asked before Annie even thought to.

"Sleeps early. Like an old woman."

They laughed and said their goodnights. Annie wasn't sure, but she thought she heard the elevator and a door down the hall open and close in the night.


	3. Training Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No promises, but I am going to try to update around about once per week on this story, so look out for new chapters on the weekends!

They stuck together during training, as the mentors advised. They were to run through all the basics, showing competence, but not showing off.

"Let One and Two compare sizes," Mags had said. "Four doesn't play that game. We're Career, but we don't have the luxury of showing our cards right away. It's convention. They know it and you know it. Each district has a character, even Careers."

So, Drift only played out a few basic passes with her at the sword station, and Annie kept to throwing knives rather than sparring with them. Neither of them bothered with the knots.

"Afternoon, sailors."

They turned from their place at the edible plants station to greet One and Two.

"Hi!" Drift gave the others his brightness smile. "Good to finally meet you. I'm Drift Hurley. This is Annie Cresta."

"Jewel Warwick and Silver Arnett," the curly haired blonde sized them up with a crocodile grin, speaking for the lithe but strong boy next to her.

"Cain Yager," the thick-necked boy from Two didn't seem to have facial expressions like a normal human.

"Reagan Farris." His female counterpart was hawkish and tall, glaring down a long straight nose at the pair of them.

"Mags and Finnick said they've been talking to your mentors," Drift pressed on. Annie had to hand it to him, he was not at all dimmed by the less than warm welcome. She wondered if it was possible to intimidate him. "Guess we're the Pack if that's alright with you four."

"The more the merrier." Reagan's face did not change in the slightest.

Annie was starting to wish they could go it alone, but then the girl's face cracked into a smile. They all laughed and started talking more easily.

"I was thinking," Drift addressed the whole group. "We should figure out where our weak points are as a group and sort of distribute the load during training so we have everything covered." He smirked. "Unless you have something better to do."

"Doesn't sound half bad."

"Great. Me and Annie are covered so far as close range blades, and for survival, we have knots and shelter."

They spent most of the first day planning with the others. Late in the afternoon, they broke to cover their weak spots. With an over abundance of melee fighters, Annie and Jewel made a place at the targets on the far wall. Annie stuck with her knives, but focused on practicing her throwing, always more difficult than close fighting for her. Still, she was decent enough not to make a fool of herself. Jewel picked up a bow and quiver.

"So what's Four like, really?"

"Lots of sand. Lots of water. Smells like fish."

Jewel laughed as she knocked her first arrow. "So I hear."

"And One?"

"Oh, you know. I love it, to tell you the truth. Everything is beautiful and in its place." She tossed her curls, beautiful and always in its place. "Like how the districts bring in something special to the Capital, each Career district brings something special to the pack." She drew and aimed. "One, we bring a sense of civility and class," she let her first arrow fly. It hit. Dead center. "Two brings a kind of wild brutality that no one really wants to admit they crave." She barely paused to aim the second arrow before it thudded neatly next to the first. "And Four-"she shrugged and knocked, drew, aimed and released so fast it all looked like one motion. "The smell of fish I guess."

Annie held her gaze as Jewel smiled at her. She almost didn't hear the instructor calling out the end of that day's training session.

"Ladies! Time to go!"

Annie broke the eye contact first. Let Jewel preen, thinking she'd been cowed. She needed time to think this over.

~

Annie couldn't sleep for the first time since the night before the reaping. There were far too many variables now. The pack was supposed to simplify things. Not add something to her games. There was supposed to be no thinking in the first part of the Games for Careers. Just surviving. Watching out for one another until the field was thinned. Hunting in a pack.

She hadn't told Drift about Jewel. He had been too full of the elation of a day well spent. She didn't know if he should know. Did either of them have any kind of chance if the other Careers had already decided they would be the first to go? Should she be keeping anything from him? She didn't think she even meant to. She just needed time to think.

This time, Annie was sure she heard the elevator. A moment later and the television followed. She pulled on a jacket meant for the training center and crept down the hall into the lounge area. As she had guessed, Finnick sat up on the couch, watching the other mentors interviews on the screen.

"They get along alright?"

He must have heard her footsteps. He thought it was Mags.

"Drift did good."

He twisted so fast she was sure he must have pulled something in his neck. She paused her steps, regretting leaving her room already. This was probably against some convention.

"Yeah?" He finally relaxed after a moment and turned back to the screen. "And you?"

Seeing this as permission, she proceeded into the room and sat in one of the pristine white armchairs, her feet tucked under her.

"Hard to say."

"Walk me through it." He took a few pulls at a bottle of water, nearly draining it. He offered a second to her.

"You have anything stronger?"

He gave her a look so close to her own mother's that she smiled.

"Oh come on. I'm not that much younger than you."

"Not about age," he finished the first bottle and cracked open the second. "We're both on duty until all this is over."

Annie's smile fell. He certainly knew how to dash down a good mood. "Well, you're not as much fun as they all say." She would have gone on trying to tease him, but there was a tremor in his free hand on his knee that she hadn't noticed before. Sure, he wouldn't drink if he was "on duty," but apparently other forms of altering his consciousness were not out of the question. She wondered what expensive powders and pills were available to a Victor as prestigious as the perfect and wonderful Finnick Odair. Still, he was here to help her, and Annie wasn't above trying to learn from the best.

"We split up like Drift talked about with Mags. I did a bit of practice throwing with the girl from One."

He nodded. "I'm getting the sense you two didn't hit it off."

She told him everything that Jewel had said. He listened without comment, not even drinking from his water. Annie had trouble meeting his eyes, so she pretended to pick at a loose thread on her ankle. There were no loose threads on Capital clothing, though, so she switched to her nails halfway through.

"She was good," Annie shook her head. "Either she was lying when she said range was her weak point, or her weak point is everyone else's expert level."

He nodded. "Likely lying, coming from One. But that just means she probably isn't as good as she said at something else. You should watch her. You're better at reading people than Drift."

It took her a moment to realize that he was giving her what sounded like honest advice for the first time. Not that he and Mags hadn't been helpful, but at times it seemed they were reciting from a lesson plan that they had previously agreed on.

"She's right, isn't she?" Annie held his gaze, hoping she could catch him if he was about to lie. "Not about us being useless, but the whole thing about each bringing something different to the pack."

She was relieved when he nodded. "True. The Games are a television show. Even aside from the Victors, people want recurring characters."

A short laugh escaped her throat and Annie tried to fight down the embarrassment at her habit.

"Sorry. I get the nervous laughs really bad. So what character are we?"

Finnick smiled in the same way that he had on the first day when she had said getting along with Drift would be the easy part. "Us? We are the tide."

Annie scowled and rolled her eyes. District pride and ambiguous poetry weren't what she was looking for.

"Fish stink it is," she grumbled, turning away from him to watch the interviews on the screen.


	4. Assessments and Interviews

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your kudos!  
> I have a short bit of Finnick POV prequel that I've been chewing on, but I'm not sure if I want to post it at all or if I do, as a part of this story or a completely separate one-shot. If that interests you, let me know!

She didn't tell Drift, on Finnick's instructions. But she watched Jewel. The blonde was already making herself known as the leader of the Pack. It wasn't forced authority, but the others paid particular attention when she spoke and even sought her opinion when she didn't. Drift didn't seem to have a problem with this, and nodded without a hint of surliness when Jewel corrected his stance in the hand combat ring. She said little else to Annie in the next few days.

Annie spent the training hours on her own for the most part, occasionally nodding a greeting to any tribute that came near her. A beautiful willowy boy with pale skin and black, shiny hair from Seven introduced himself, as well as a dark, round-faced girl from Twelve. They seemed to find her the most approachable of the Pack. It wasn't a compliment.

Annie was surprised at the scrawny and drawn look of the other tributes. Of course she had always known that Four was better off than some of the other districts. Annie's family wasn't by any means rich, and they sometimes struggled and ate cheaply for weeks on end, but on reaping day, she had climbed onto stage in a new dress and even a little makeup she saved for special occasions. But some of the outlying districts looked like they had never eaten their fill once in their lives. She had seen this during the Games in previous years, but somehow it was worse in person.

In the evenings, she and Drift discussed the day's training as well as interview strategy with the mentors over dinner. This part of their instruction was more personalized and Annie and Finnick often moved to the living area so that the two conversations would not overlap. Annie's confidence in her mentor grew when she noticed that the tremor in his hand was not present during their planned sessions. So he wasn't such a desperate addict as some. Maybe he just indulged late in the night when his duties were through. She had no problem with that, just so long as he was mentally present when she needed him.

"Any topics that worry you?"

Annie shrugged and balanced her plate on her knees so she could keep eating her steak while they worked. "Not really. I like the strategy. It's not too obnoxious and I think I can improvise if Caesar asks something unexpected."

He nodded. "Good. I don't see either of you having trouble with this part."

This part. She knew what he meant and he knew she understood. She wanted to ask if he thought she had a chance. It might be a relief either way. There would be something motivating about Finnick Odair telling her she was a goner. He would know, of course. He knew what a dead kid walking looked like. But Annie had always been just a little contrary. It would feel even better to win and watch the Capital's favorite Victor eat his words.

"What should I say about you, if he asks?"

This got her the best of his smiles. She distinctly remembered her mother when they had sat down to watch the 65th Games interviews. _"That smile gets him extra dessert at home, no mistake."_

"You're just thrilled to learn from the best."

Annie stuck her tongue out and threw a carrot at him.

She slept better than she had after the first training day. Even so, she still heard the elevator, like clockwork, early every morning around four am. Then the television for an hour. Considering their early breakfast time, Finnick must only get an hour of sleep each night. Unless he let Mags handle talking to sponsors while they were at training and slept through the day. That didn't seem likely. They both updated Annie and Drift at the table over dinner. Perhaps he just didn't sleep during the Games.

On the last training day, they all waited patiently to go into the test room. It only took an hour and a half before it was Drift's turn. He winked at her as he entered. Before she had time to wonder how he was doing, Annie's name was called. She did decent, she thought. The holograms used to show sparring were somewhat awkward to deal with, but she didn't make any embarrassing mistakes. That night they watched the scoring together as a team in the Four living area.

"Jewel Warwick, Eleven."

"Silver Arnett, Nine."

"Reagan Farris, Nine."

"Cain Yager, Ten."

"Fuck me," Finnick whispered.

"Tess Phillips, Four."

"Trig Vector, Two."

"Drift Hurley, Ten."

Applause and cheering in their group. Annie threw an arm around his neck and kissed his head while he laughed.

"Annie Cresta, Nine."

Virgilia actually shrieked and Finnick let out a bark of triumphant laughter. Annie swallowed, hardly daring to believe it. Fifth rank or no, no one could say she didn't belong in the Pack. She'd love to see the look on Jewel's face upon finding out Annie had the same score as her district partner.

~

At last they were shuffled to their prep teams and stylists for the interviews. Drift was practically sewn into a classic, if sinfully tailored suit. Annie's new dress wasn't as loud as her chariot costume, but it was no less beautiful. The bell-shaped skirt fell to her knees ("you've great calves, shame about the thighs," Virgilia had explained) and was shaped with layers and layers of green ruffles that peaked out under the soft violet outerwear ("fewer layers in the back. No one has to know about that ass tonight.") Annie had gotten used to the woman's jabbing comments about her unsatisfactory body and hardly minded them now. Virgilia's job was to make her look good, and that meant hiding what could be seen as flaws. The stylist did her job and did her job well, and Annie loved her for it. She was given a lighter version of her chariot makeup, and her hair was twisted up on top of her head in a cone-shaped pile.

"You'll do," Virgilia clipped between sips of her usual cocktail. "Just don't trip. I spent days on those heels. You have weird shaped feet."

"Thank you, Virgilia." Annie spun in front of the mirror, trying to twist her neck to watch the bounce of her skirt. "You're the best Game stylist this year, easily."

The curt woman actually swelled at the praise.

"Don't I know it." She glanced over her shoulder before quickly setting down her glass and scurrying to her bag. "I'm not supposed to show you, but maybe it will be motivating."

Annie's stomach gave a giddy flutter at the idea of flouting the strict rules of the Games. Virgilia flipped open her sketchbook and passed it to her. The page was labeled 'Crowning.' She flipped through. 'Victor Interview,' 'Homecoming,' 'Presidential Palace.' Each design was more beautiful than the last.

"You think I can do it?" The stylist was no Finnick Odair, but Annie needed to ask one person before she entered the arena. Drift believed in her, but she was starting to see that her district partner's optimism was more a weakness than anything else.

"I think how you look and how you act are far more important than how good you are at rolling around in the mud. It's theatre, Annie. And you will look marvelous on stage."

Annie smiled. Even if she wasn't sold on completely devaluing physical strength, Virgilia's words meant something. They were able to watch the other interviews in the waiting area. The rest of the Pack kept to the usual personas of their districts. Three both looked awkward and terrified. Annie tried not to watch them. In under 24 hours, they'd be dead, there was no way around it. Drift was perfect. He looked comfortable spread out in the armchair, like in his own living room rather than on a stage under hundreds of lights. He and Caesar laughed at each other's jokes, Caesar with his usual manic energy, Drift with his best loose ease. Annie even found herself smiling at their pithy exchange. Before it was over, she was being dragged backstage.

"Alright?" Finnick was at her elbow, watching through the wings with a grim expression. Annie studied his expression. She had found herself fascinated with the way he held himself in different situations. His wide grins were easier to come by when he was in front of a camera or onstage himself. Still then they were different from the brief, loose smiles he allowed during their planning sessions. Mostly, he looked like this. Focused and contained.

"Fine."

"You'll do well."

She looked over at him, surprised. It was barely a compliment, but she held it in her mind as her name was called and touched his arm in thanks as she stepped away.

"The lovely Miss Annie Cresta!"

She brought up her most thrilled smile, waving off into the lights even though she couldn't see a thing. She had been practicing a walk that made her skirt bounce backstage and was fully satisfied with the resulting patting sensation on her legs.

"There she is! My, my! Come here, Dear. Have a seat."

"Thanks, Caesar." She smoothed her skirt, sitting on the front edge of the cushion.

"Annie Cresta, from District Four. How have you been this week?"

"I've been wonderful. This is what we all dream of."

"What we all dream of. I love it. Did you always feel like your name would one day be picked?"

"I thought about it. I think everyone does. But once it happened, I knew it was right."

"That's beautiful, Annie. And, not to make any assumptions, but I think most girls would be pretty pleased to get to meet your district's most recent Victor, Finnick Odair."

The crowd chuckled knowingly and Annie smiled. She wished it was easier to flush on command, though she didn't doubt she was already a little pink. "I'm just glad to be in _such_ good hands."

She was brilliant, she really was. Someone get her an award. She hadn't even planned that one. The audience squealed as she smiled, wide eyed and oblivious to her own innuendo. She was the sweet, innocent girl next door. The girl next door blushed when she thought about Finnick Odair. But the girl next door did not think about herself being in Finnick Odair's hands. Or visa versa. Caesar was delighted. Rarely did a tribute understand the veiled sexuality that was acceptable for them. It was delicate and coy, but always wildly popular when pulled off correctly.

After a few more questions Caesar bid her a fond farewell and good luck, and she was released to return to watching the rest.

"Excellent work, both of you," Mags was beaming when the mentors met them backstage, which she managed to do without showing any teeth. "Couldn't have ended the week on a better note. The sponsors we've been talking with will be pleased."

"Pretty sure the entire country is a little in love with you," Drift was almost vibrating. He was starting to remind Annie of her mother's little rat catcher dog.

"Of course they are," she tossed her hair and adopted a high Capital accent. "I'm wonderful."

"Well done," Finnick was grinning, but the expression looked tight. Annie wondered if he was starting to feel the effects of his late nights. Maybe he was hoping she'd die soon so he could get some sleep. She chased the thought away, startled by her own dark suspicions of him. "We've got just enough professional and just enough underdog to win over almost anyone."

"We've got a win this year, Boy. I know it." Not even the singular dimmed their spirits.

Back on their floor, the mentors said their goodnights and shook Drift and Annie's hands before going to bed. Drift gave her a smile and a wave before they retired to their rooms. Neither of them wanted to exchange words, just in case they started thinking about the possibilities the next day would bring. Annie went to bed smiling, refusing to think about her or Drift's chances. There would be time for that later. Worrying about it wouldn't help her in the arena. Sleep would. Sleep and confidence. At that moment, she was confident that Annie Cresta had a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up so you don't get surprised or confused next week: I will not actually be writing Annie's games in this story. I've thought long and hard about it and waffled back and forth, but have decided to leave that part of the story out of this piece in real time and only tell it in references through Annie's thoughts and dialogue. There are many reasons for this, but the main one is that this story is meant to focus on the Victors and Annie's relationships with them. Believe it or not, what I've posted so far here is just the introduction. What's past is prologue! I probably should have compressed it all into one chapter and waited to post, but I got excited. I'll try to post longer chapters from now on so this doesn't end up being 50 chapters long!


	5. Victor of the 70th Annual Hunger Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos! I'm glad people are enjoying this. Feel free to comment if you have any questions or thoughts for me.

When the dam broke, Annie let the rush of water take her and bury her. She closed her eyes and imagined a cloud of red around her being swept away. It was a strange comfort to know she would die without blood on her skin. The smell had been starting to make her feel sick.

Three minutes and six seconds. It would feel longer, she knew. Sailors back home said drowning was the worst pain imaginable. Even worse than childbirth. Her legs began to burn first, which was stupid. They didn't hurt as if injured, but burned with fatigue. Maybe they had been struck off by the torrent of rushing water, an uprooted tree perhaps. It could be a phantom ache. Her arms burned too. Maybe she was just a lump of torso being buffeted around by the current.

A passing branch tore into her side and she screamed. Annie was surprised she had any air left. It had to have been at least a minute. Maybe she'd be lucky and one would hit her head.

Her face broke through the surface before she had finished wishing her brain was out of oxygen. She would have cried if she had the energy. But her traitorous limbs had stolen every ounce of command she had over her body. The current had calmed to a steady flow, calm enough to float on her back and heave in breaths that made the gash in her side ache. Above her, the stars shone. It was a full moon.

Her breath returned, Annie started to laugh. She didn't know if she'd ever stop.

"The tide." She didn't know if Finnick could see or hear her, but explained anyway. "Ambition. I get it. We rise."

Hours later, she began to hear the others. Annie didn't know how many were left. No one from One. She knew that much. Not Drift. A sudden flash of his head floating around somewhere beneath her made her stomach turn. She held on to what little was left in her stomach, though. She didn't want to end up floating in her own sick.

"Please!" The first voice sounded young. Not one of the Twos then. Maybe the girl from Twelve. Not the boy. "Just send us a branch! Anything!"

There was splashing and gasping. The one screaming couldn't relax enough to just float. Maybe they didn't even know how to swim. Some districts had few bodies of water to learn such skills in. Annie hoped she didn't drift too close. She needn't have worried. There was a canon soon enough.

"Is anyone even watching?"

"Someone, please!"

"I can't feel my legs!"

"Mama..."

That was Cain. At least it sounded like him. Annie was getting light headed. She'd lost a lot of blood from her side. The slow moving water and her lack of movement in the past few hours had allowed it to clot, but who knew how long that would last.

"Just end it already!"

It wasn't in response to the shout, it was too immediate. But the waves started then. Annie stayed floating as long as possible, but once the waves started to fold over her face, she started to swim again.

Canons. One, two, three, four, five. Then the music. She couldn't hear the announcement she knew was blaring out for the benefit of the viewers. The hovercraft was above her. All she could hear was its hum. But the announcement was playing, letting everyone know just what was happening.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, the Victor of the seventieth annual Hunger Games, Annie Cresta."

~

They set to work on her in the hovercraft, injecting something into her arm and strapping a mask over her nose and mouth before she was on a stretcher. Annie was unconscious before she was fully lying down. Just before her eyes closed, a sudden wave of panic washed over her. Where was Two? She couldn't sleep until she knew where Two was. They weren't even injured. They could easily sneak up on her. She needed to stay awake. She needed to-

She didn't dream.

She woke alone in a stiff, sanitized bed. There was a mask on her face and tubes in her arms.

"Annie?"

She jumped- or tried to. Her arms and legs were strapped to the railings on either side of the bed. She started to cry out, panicked. It had to be Two. They'd tied her up. They were going to play with her first.

"Hey- no. Calm down. It's just us. Just you and me, alright, Annie? They'll put you back to sleep if you can't keep calm."

Annie forced herself to lie back and stare at the ceiling. Finnick's voice was saying something that really didn't matter. He must be sitting across the room from her, not at her bedside, but pressed up against the wall. She didn't want to look to see if he was standing or sitting. She didn't want to see him at all. He sounded stupid, she decided. He was always such an image of confidence and surety when she saw him on the television in the last five years. Now he sounded like just about every other teenage boy who wouldn't stop voicing ideas and questions she didn't care about. Do you have a boyfriend, Annie? What's your mile record? I'm going to volunteer this year- you won't turn down a Victor. You're not safe yet, Annie- but I'm trying, i'm trying.

Useless. Boring. She wanted to tell him to give up, but her mind wasn't up to putting words together just yet. She wished Mags was her mentor instead. She thought Mags would understand her need for silence right now. As it was, Annie stared at the ceiling and blocked out Finnick's useless words.

~

She threw up backstage until there was nothing left.

"Easy there, Little Lady." There was a hand on her back. She didn't even fight it off. If someone wanted to kill her today, she would let them.

She straightened up slowly, and stared at the only remaining Victor of Twelve. Hatfield or something. He smelled like whiskey. Maybe he did want to kill her. She had killed one of his tributes.

"Here." He pressed a water bottle into her hand. "Swish and spit. Then drink."

He said it the way her mother had told her "wipe, then blow" when she had a runny nose as a child, so maybe he didn't want to kill her.

"You'll be fine. Just bat them eyes and they'll forget anything you say."

She nodded and he swerved off.

"Ready?" Finnick and her prep team were back around her. Her escort tsked at the sick on the floor. Finnick glared at him until he scurried off. Annie added it to her mentor's points for being decent. He'd given up talking to her in the recovery ward after a day, so she was feeling more favorably toward him. "It's going to be rough. Just don't focus when they show the clips. Cross your eyes if you have to."

She nodded dumbly and he gave her an odd look before pulling her into a tight, stiff hug. Annie let her arms hang limp and blinked into his shoulder, sure that he was ruining Virgilia's meticulous makeup job and not caring. She couldn't even remember what dress from the woman's sketchbook she was wearing. All she knew was that it was in the way when she moved and there was probably vomit on the hem now.

"Do and say the first thing that comes to you. If you want to scream, _scream_."

He whispered it so fast, she wondered if she had imagined it. Maybe she was going mad. But he had sounded hard and urgent, like he wanted to be sure she absorbed this more than anything else he said. Like he knew how hard it was for her to focus on words, but these ones were important. A hand on the small of her back pushed her out on stage, and she took his advice. She stood still on the edge of the stage, trying to focus on something, anything. She could barely see. The roar of the crowd blurred into the lights and her senses couldn't source out what she needed to do or pay attention to. Caesar approached and guided her by the elbow to the seats. Annie let him do it, even if his hand on her arm felt like dry ice. Somehow, she sat on the chair provided. She let the host's questions wash over her as she stared out at the audience, unable to see a single face in all the bright lights. She couldn't speak.

Caesar was saying something about Drift. He was doing his best to help her, leaning in and smiling sympathetically to keep her thoughts off the audience. But Caesar Flickerman was not a tribute. He was not a Victor. He did not know what the canon sounded like, echoing off the limits of the arena. He didn't know what it felt like to have her mind buzzing, even when he was asleep. He didn't know what a knife felt like in his hand as it dragged up a soft belly, buried deep. Finnick was a Victor. A silly, stupid teenage boy who grew up ten miles from Annie's house, but the pride of the district. He had been here, so in the moment that Caesar was about to try asking her another question, she screamed.

~

When they killed the cameras, they dragged her off stage and back to the medical ward where she had recovered her physical health. She tried to fight them off. Some of them looked like One. Later she found out there was a mad scramble to replace her interview spot on the broadcast. Finnick did the interview for her and most people preferred that way anyway. They let her watch a repeat a few days later.

"Sorry about that delay, folks. To complete the interview, we have Annie Cresta's mentor, Finnick Odair. Wonderful to see you again, Finnick."

"Always glad to be back. "

"Can you maybe shed some light on what's going on with your Victor today?"

"Oh you know these district kids-" _you're_ a district kid you fucking prick, you're nineteen- "Can slit a man from throat to navel but put her in heels for more than an hour..."

They all laughed graciously for him, but there was only so much he could do to smooth things over. Soon the truth got out: Annie Cresta went mad in the arena. She stared off into space when the doctors spoke to her, she had nightmares that set her attacking the nurses. And it was true. She wasn't acting. She needed to tune them out and to scream- to fight back when they touched her, she had just been waiting for some kind of confirmation that the need was real.

Mags spent all the time she could with her. She didn't see Finnick. If it had been three weeks earlier, Annie would have been embarrassed to whimper and sob into the strong old woman's shoulder as she was held like a child. Mags had a warm low voice, rough from years of speeches and strong liquor.

"It's alright, Baby. You just let it on out. You don't got to talk to no one you don't want to. My boy is going to take care of everything, you hear me, little girl? You just hang on, Baby. We're going to bring you home and no one will bother you. That boy of mine, he has a plan. He's sweeter than they know and he is going to keep them away so you can just be broken for awhile in peace. It's just us now, Baby. You don't know yet, but you will. After, we're the only safe ones."

Annie didn't listen to any of it. She wished later she had.


	6. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments!  
> I decided that my forays into other characters' POVs will be included in this story itself rather than in oneshots. If people really hate it, I can change that strategy, but for now that's the plan. So here we will delve into Mags's mind- another character I think is oversimplified in people's minds.  
> This chapter deals with discussion of serious mental illness, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, sexual abuse and suicide. Nothing is explicitly described in real time, but if you are triggered by any of these things please know what's best for you and proceed with caution. Take care of yourselves friends!

Mags brought the loom over to Annie's house as an excuse. She did it for all the new Victors. A loom here, a violin there. A boat for Finnick. A little schooner he could sail himself, even at fourteen. But it was easier with two sets of hands, giving her an excuse to get him on the water and talk safely. With everyone else, she would bring the gift and suggest a walk. Some came willingly, others had to be talked into it. Annie just laid on the couch in her living room and stared at the wall, regardless of what Mags or her parents said. She gave up after a few days, deciding to wait for Finnick to come home. She had no idea how long that would be. There was a steep price to pay for the peace of a Victor, even a mad one. Mags couldn't think of that price, so she spent her time repairing her oldest and most worn nets.

He called after a week and her heart nearly stopped.

"Hi, Mags. Just checking in."

"Bout time, Boy." She was careful with her tone. "What's kept you?"

"Capital glory. How's Annie?"

"Getting her rest." He would know what she meant. No improvement. She'd barely spoken since her games. Even her parents couldn't get more than two or three words out of her at a time. She laughed at nothing and cried at everything. "Are you coming back soon, Boy? Nautica and Dorian could sure use a hand."

That meant at the training center. It was ridiculous, but they were still expected to keep up the pretense that career districts were illegal, even after all these years. But even that was just an excuse. She hated every moment he spent in the Capital. She wanted him home. And she reminded him every chance she had.

"They can get on fine without me."

He'd be gone longer. Much longer. Mags closed her eyes and took a breath, touching the shard of oyster shell dangling from her neck.

"Just don't spend so long there you forget where you're from. Four's due west."

Don't forget who you are. Why you're doing this. Don't let them take the good away. It's yours and it makes up for the bad, even when it doesn't feel like it. Remember what I taught you: The truth is a better act than the lie. Never fake flattery. You can't un-kill anything, even a snail. When in doubt, smile like you know something they don't. Know when you're being used. Save information like money. Never use capital synthetics for a rolling hitch. Sometimes there isn't a right thing to do. One glass of water per alcoholic drink. You're the only thing I know I've done right.

"Hush, old crow."

"Being me back a new motor for that grey pilothouse in the bay or I'll lock you out."

She tried Annie again after a few days, when the girl wandered out of her house to the beach. Mags approached her slowly, unsure of how she would react to a surprise at this stage.

"Annie." Annie looked up but said nothing. She only went back to staring out into the sea. "I don't know how much I say sticks with you. I know you can hear me though, so I want you to concentrate on what I tell you here."

Mags paused, waiting. Annie sat down in the sand, pulling her knees up to her chest. Taking this as confirmation that she would try, Mags went on.

"There's no right thing to do when you're a mentor. I've been doing it every few years since I was 18. That's 58 years. I've tried shutting the kids out like the poor Twelve boy does every year. They die then. They always do. And I still remember their names. I've tried to care equally about both every year. Then they go in scared children and still don't come out. I remember them too. Now I focus on the one I'm assigned to. I don't let myself think of them as children, so they don't act like they are. It makes them hard and it makes them killers. Sometimes they come out. Sometimes they don't. And even when they live, they hurt until they're in the ground. Some more than others. That boy of mine, he's off in the Capital right now making sure they don't hurt you the way they hurt him and it kills me every day that I didn't do that for him. I didn't know they'd hurt one so young. I was a fool and I made a mistake in letting myself see him as a child. But Finnick is smarter than I ever was. You can trust him, Baby."

Annie wasn't responding to any of this, but Mags kept going, hoping the girl was absorbing the words.

"It's not over after your games. That's what I'm trying to tell you. You're their celebrity, their trainer, their slave, their whore, their mind and their body. Even if you're not popular, they'll hide you away and use you in other ways. The threes are barely allowed to leave the Capital. They're constantly in weapons research. When Finnick's there, they don't let him sleep. They give him pills. Victor is not just a title. It's a sentence. A life sentence. I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just trying to prepare you. Because even if this plan to keep their hands off you works, they'll still find ways to hurt you. They always do."

Mags watched the girl carefully, waiting for some sign that she hadn't been wasting her breath. Annie shifted her feet, burying them in the sand.

"Is Finnick still getting high in the Capital? He should probably be helping with my victory tour."

Mags resisted the urge to cuff the girl on the head and went home without another word.

~

Finnick was back a week later, at midnight. She only saw Annie a few times since, but hadn't bothered saying anything of value to her. She had better luck getting responses if she just tried small talk. Mags heard the key fumble at the lock and had her robe on before the door was open.

"Mags..."

He was leaning so heavily on the doorframe, she could hear it creak. Mags ducked under his arm without a thought.

"Sorry. It's late."

"Hush. Sit."

Finnick all but fell into a seat at the table. He was pale, his lips dry and his eyes out of focus. She dug around in the refrigerator for cold water.

"Um, Mags?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me with-"

Mags turned, only to need to grip the counter to stay standing. Finnick had peeled off his jacket to show a bloody shirt stuffed with what looked like dirty rags.

"Oh you idiot boy-"

She rushed back to the table top help him reveal the damage. There were three long cuts across his chest and a fourth down his arm.

"She likes blood. Knives. One of those kinks."

"Fool, idiot boy. Should have gotten sewn up afterwards."

"I couldn't. I couldn't have their hands on me anymore. I wouldn't let them-"

Mags wanted to throw up. After seeing the extent of the damage, she found a bottle of white liquor, clean bandages and a needle and fishing line. Finnick winced and groaned as the alcohol touched the wounds.

"Hush. Barely nicked muscle. Don't make a scene."

He was quiet while she cleaned each cut. When she heard him try to swallow the lump in his throat, Mags searched for something to say.

"Annie isn't any better. She barely sleeps. Cries every night. Goes off screaming for one reason or another all the time."

"Like I was."

Mags pursed her lips and disinfected the needle and line with the liquor. "Worse. You were like all the others."

"Thanks."

"Don't sass me." She jabbed the needle in, starting at the worst of the cuts. "You know what I mean. We all get that way at first. But she's farther than that. I don't think she just ignores me and her parents. I think she honestly doesn't understand the sounds as speech. And sometimes when it's quiet, she'll plug her ears. I don't think she's said more than a few words to anyone since. It's not unheard of. There was a boy from Eleven. Before you're time. Hung himself from an orange tree a month before his tour."

He nodded. "You think she's there?"

"Not yet. She's not able to focus enough to follow a conversation, I don't think she could plan and execute a successful suicide. But we need to watch her. Don't be lulled into security if she starts getting better. She may just improve enough to do something."

He was quiet again and Mags refused to notice the tears rolling down his face as she stitched him back together. Some of the cuts had torn nerves. The capital doctors could have fixed them, but as things were, he might lose some feeling in his bicep. Maybe that's why he had refused the more advanced help.

"There." Mags tied off the last thread. "You'll do. Now drink some water. You lost a lot with your idiot stunt to come home first."

She made sure he started on the water before going up to his room to get him a clean shirt. She stopped in her bathroom to splash cold water on the back of her neck and take an antacids tablet. When she got back down the stairs, he was on the couch in the living area, starting out the window.

"Thanks."

He pulled on his shirt the same way he as a child, both arms only half way through before pulling it over his head. Mags blamed the familiar image for the tightness in her chest. She sat and pulled him to her, careful of the bandaged wounds. Finnick hid his face in her shoulder and gripped her robe.

"How much more do I have to do until it feels like enough?"

"It won't ever feel like enough, love. But you've done more than the rest of us."

"I just don't want to dream about them anymore."

Mags kissed him like a child and he cried like one. She wanted to tell him to stop expecting to be okay one day. 58 years was plenty of time to learn this lesson. He would learn it too. If he lasted that long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Mags says about suicidal people recovering just enough to harm themselves is often true. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts, please, please take these things seriously and seek help when needed. The internet is a wonderful resource for support. Someone is always available to talk, or just listen. Search for hotlines and chatrooms that make you feel comfortable if you are not already getting the support you need. If you learn anything from this universe of the Hunger Games, it's that the future can ALWAYS be different, even if the road to get there isn't what you want it to be.


	7. Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update to make up for the late one this week! Also I'm not sure when I'll have time for more, since life is happening at an alarming rate. Still trying to lengthen these chapters out, but they seem to be settling around 2000, and I guess I shouldn't force it.

They finally let her go home and her family could barely look at her. She didn't mind, and spent most of her time in her room or on the beach. Mags sometimes approached her and tried to strike up a conversation, but her words flowed through Annie's mind and out again without sticking. At home, she only came downstairs to weave at the loom the old woman had given her in the living room.

At first, those who had known her before were just happy she was alive. And Drift's family saw that it was his death that broke her, so they treated her with a strange sort of respect. But after a time, her family and friends were more frustrated and disappointed in her than pleased. They had thought they had her back, but she wasn't what they wanted. Her friends stopped coming by the house, and her parents stopped trying to draw her out of her room. And Four was a large district. Many people didn't know either of the tributes that year. Children started to egg her new house and stand out in the yard chanting rude rhymes until Mags chased them away.

_Crazy Annie, send her to bed_

_couldn't stop yelling about Drift's head_

_They tied her down and poked through her eyes_

_Now Crazy Annie's been lobotomized!_

Annie's parents pretended not to notice.

After a few weeks, there was a knock on the door and she had to curl up on the rug to escape the sudden noise while her mother answered it.

"Mr. Odair, come in."

He isn't "Mr. Odair," mother. He was two grades above me in school. His father was Mr. Odair, and he died at sea four years ago.

"Oh Annie-" that note of exasperated and tired worry in her voice. Like Annie was a dog that had peed the carpet, not her daughter crying on the living room floor. "Please can you try to get up? We have a guest."

She was getting better at hearing when people spoke. She wished she wasn't. There wasn't anything she really wanted to hear.  
Finnick said something nauseatingly charming and gratuitous, and her mother went back to the kitchen. He didn't say anything and Annie stayed where she was. Let him get a good long look at his Victor.

"We're taking a walk."

"I'm far too mad to leave the house."

"Mags says you go to the beach almost every day."

"She must be seeing things. She's an old woman."

She could almost hear him grind his teeth. "Doubt it."

"Then maybe it's ghosts."

"Come on."

He left and Annie wondered how he knew she would follow. But she did. Finnick led her out past the beach and the trees, up to the top of the short Cliffside south of Victor's Village. Annie wondered if he'd bother to jump in after her if she jumped for the rocky drop-off below. He stood for a few minutes before speaking.

"Our houses are tapped. I should have warned you earlier. But I'm new at this. And Mags said she can't corner you anywhere it's safe to talk." When she didn't answer, he pressed on. "It worked, mostly. But we have to be very careful about how we play this."

"I'm not playing." She meant it to sound scathing and defiant, but mostly she just sounded small.

"I know. But we have to anyway. The Victory Tour is going to take some doing. But if we play our cards right, no one in Panem will give a rat's ass about Annie Cresta."

Anonymity. It was not something she had considered when she dreamed of victory. She tried to remember what she had dreamt of. Something with a dress. Cleverly-worded interviews. Admirers maybe.

"You keep saying 'we.'"

He gave her a wry smile and it was nothing like what he gave the Capital. It was the one he gave her when she said something he knew more about than she did, but she was hitting the mark anyway.

"You don't know yet, but it's just us now, Cresta. You'll see. We're not much, but we're something."

~

The next few months were hell. Annie's mother cleaned, her father left for the ship yards, Finnick tried to visit and Annie screamed at all of them. She refused to eat at the table with her parents, and only ate late at night when she almost feel asleep.  
The nightmares were getting worse. Her father drowned her. Her mother slit her wrists and left her in a warm bath. Mags garroted her. Finnick embedded his trident in her and pulled her entrails out for her to see. Sometimes her friends from school tied her up and cut her, but their faces were more and more blurry every night. She was always disappointed when she woke up before dying.

She curled up on the couch for days. She barely ate or drank so she wouldn't have to go to the bathroom. The less she moved, the fewer tributes she saw out of the corner of her eye. Her mother stopped trying to force feed her once she noticed food gone from the fridge. It improved their relationship. And that meant they barely spoke. Her mother cried more than she did before the games, but it wasn't much more.

"Annie?"

"Mom."

"Will you get up today?"

"No. Probably not."

"Not even to the beach?"

"No. Mags might see me."

Her mother didn't argue. She was polite with the other Victors that were now their neighbors at first, but ever since Dorian and Nautica had turned up drunk and tried to drag Annie down to the beach with them, naked, at noon, she had been more suspicious of even the quieter ones in the group.

"I'm going to make a pie later, if you'd like to help."

"No."

Annie watched Lorraine's eight year old son fishing off the nearest dock. No one ever bothered telling the boy that he wouldn't catch anything with the crackers he tied to the end of his unhooked line. Once, Dorian had started to make a comment about the boy's daily haul, but Lorraine cuffed him so hard he choked and Coral threatened to drag him by the testicles from her speedboat.

They had come by a few times, individually or in groups. They seemed to keep to small pairs or trios based on temperament. Mags got on with everyone, or rather led them. Like a family matriarch. Finnick seemed to have a comfortable rapport with most all of them, but only dealt with Mags extensively. And now Annie it seemed. After a few misfires, the others seemed to have decided to leave her be. Annie didn't much care. They smiled with sharks teeth and laughed too high and too loud. They moved like they belonged in cages. So did Mags and Finnick, but they were harder to chase away by playing dead.

"When's the last time you bathed?"

"Tuesday."

"Which Tuesday?"

She didn't bother responding. Her mother only wanted to remind her how far gone she was. There was no need.

"Well I'll be in the kitchen."

"I'll be here."

~

The Victory Tour was considered a disaster. She stared down at the cards her escort had given her and read directly to the paper before turning her back to the audience without acknowledging them. Her escort was near tears by the second stop. Virgilia had tried to keep up the amiable stasis they had found before the games, but gave up once Annie only met her flippant insults with blank stares and mumbled curses.

Mags had her stroke while they were gone and Finnick shut himself up in his room on the train with the phone for an entire day and night. Annie almost wanted to care.

At the Capital, she was expected to attend a lavish party at the president's mansion. Her stylist had made something completely different from her usual fare for the occasion, a clinging, draped red dress that was tight enough to correct her posture. Virgilia had allowed her mane of hair to hang free in a desperate attempt to give her a fashion signature. She looked like a lion in a cocktail dress.

Finnick wouldn't speak to her the whole afternoon of prep and lost her in the crowd as soon as they arrived. She wondered if he wished she had died so that he could have been home with Mags while she was recovering. Her escort seemed annoyed at being left to do his job and stepped briskly through the crowd. Annie tried to keep up, but was constantly stopped by other guests. They smiled and congratulated her, but there was a look behind their eyes that betrayed their true purpose. Mad Annie Cresta, just how mad was she? She didn't seem mad. Looks hot in that tight little dress. Because everyone knows mad girls dress in rags and strait jackets. She can't be all that mad- not with that ass.

Everything was washed in dim, colored lights, casting sick shades on the already treated and effected skintones of the capital elite. They kept pressing food and drinks into her hands and she ate mechanically, even though she had barely been eating lately and her stomach felt full to bursting after only a few minutes. Everyone was touching her. The music was light, but seemed to fit into the gaps in conversation like water filling the space between mountains. She tried to press her hands to her ears, but someone was always there to shake her hand or kiss her fingers when they moved from her sides.

"Annie!" Her escort hissed, his hand shooting out to grip her shoulder. She reacted before thinking, rolling her shoulder away and cracking the flat edge of her hand on his wrist. The guests around her drew back and twittered nervously as he cursed. Mad Annie Cresta after all.

"Now, now," someone with a deep voice chuckled. "You should know better than to surprise a Victor."

President Snow was staring at her with a smile, but she could tell it was not the smile of one who liked what he saw. Finnick was at his elbow, wearing a similarly mixed expression. Annie tried to read it, more out of habit than actual interest. It was his Capital smirk, with an unsteady edge that didn't flatter his looks in the slightest.

Her escort muttered excuses jumbled up with introductions and Snow bent to kiss Annie's hand with his too-plump lips.

"Miss Cresta, a pleasure."

She didn't know what she said, but she was sure it was an appropriate response.

"I was just discussing your future with your mentor."

She expressed surprise and interest at a polite level and looked briefly at Finnick. He was no help, as usual. He looked pleased about something- or was that relief? And there was still that shadow of unsteadiness under the layers of his smile.

"I was just extending an invitation to the Capital for you, during the year." Annie may have trouble organizing her own thoughts sometimes, but she knew an order when she heard one. But- "however, Mr. Odair has indicated that it may be more advisable for you to remain close to home. For your health."

She agreed with the proper level of regret at missing out on all the Capital could offer her.

"I see. Well, if there is ever a time when you feel you are up to it, please don't hesitate. Everyone here would just _love_ to have you."

Finnick's hand was tight on her arm.

"You're leaving. Now." His voice was tight and low. Annie stumbled in her heels trying to keep up with his quick strides. "Keep smiling. Don't make eye contact with anyone for more than a second."

One-onethousand. Look away.

"Why-"

"Just do what I say."

One onethousand. One onethousand.

Her breath was starting to come shorter and shorter. People were staring at her and she couldn't look away fast enough. Pinks, greens, orange and purple lights flashed. She was starting to feel sick. She needed to find a toilet or a bush to heave into.  
One onethousand. One onethousand. One onethousand. Annie Cresta, tribute of the seventieth annual Hunger Games. One onethousand. One onethousand. One onethousand. Annie Cresta, Victor of the seventieth annual Hunger Games. One onethousand. Take a bow, Annie.

The train door started to close behind her and she stuck out a hand to stop it, but Finnick stood back on the platform.

"Go. I have to stay to- Just do as I say, Annie."

She couldn't even stay standing straight enough to protest, so she let the doors close and immediately threw up on her shoes.


	8. New Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my thematically linked oneshot, One Night Off, for some Finnick POV backstory. It's not essential to your reading pleasure of this fic, but I posted it in the series because the ideas and version of events explored share similarities.  
> Thank you all for your kudos!

Annie found it odd that she could sleep. She woke up an hour before they arrived in four. Her escort Seemed to have stopped squawking about the disastrous tour long enough to stuff some food into his mouth. Virgilia and the prep team ate and drank quietly. Annie picked at some shrimp and soup. No one bothered speaking to her.

"Holy shit..."

Annie looked up at her stylist's awe filled mutter. They were passing the bay, and a curl of cruel black smoke was visible hanging over the beach. Annie didn't have time to wonder before she knew.

"It's in Victor's Village." She said, her face blank. "The fire. It's one of our houses."

"Don't be ridiculous," Virgilia joined her at the window. "One of the boats. The motors go sometimes, don't they?"

"It's a house."

At the station, they weren't allowed off the train for almost an hour. Annie's escort and prep team whined and complained all the while. The peacekeepers that were keeping them inside didn't say a word. Annie sat at the window in the dining car and watched the smoke continue to billow and curl up into the sky. It was her house. She knew it was. Logically, it might not be. Perhaps the oven had been left on when the medics came for Mags. Perhaps Dorian had gotten drunk and set his home ablaze. But the more she stared, the more sure she was.

She approached the peacekeeper nearest the door. Her reflection in his visor was stretched and warped, making her look like a fish in a bowl.

"Did my parents get out?"

He said nothing.

"It's my house. Did my mother and father get out in time?"

"Go back to your seat miss."

Annie stood in front of him for a moment longer than necessary, just to show she could. She may be mad Annie Cresta, but she was still a Victor. The peacekeeper put his hand on his baton, but she was already turning back to the window.

When they let them out, she was escorted to the hospital instead of Victor's Village, confirming her suspicions. Everyone around her spoke in hushed voices. Nurses made excuses about taking tests and updating her charts. She allowed herself to be poked and questioned and examined. She didn't try to ask about her parents. She asked about Mags, but they wouldn't tell her a thing. But after a few hours, she couldn't handle the veterinarian office treatment and started to scream. They stuck her with a needle and she fell asleep.

There was no one in her room the next morning. Annie got up and found her clothes from the train on a chair. It seemed strange that she wasn't being supervised. She was always being supervised. Clothes on and hair pulled back, no one stopped her on her way out. Annie walked down the coast, her head feeling light and numb, as though it was floating a few inches higher than usual.   
No one paid her much mind. Children played. Their parents shopped. Sailors hauled in their daily catch. The shops and docks were as they always were. Still, Annie felt as though she was watching them pass by on a screen rather than walking among them in real time. She saw people she knew, but they all avoided her gaze.

There was still a dark haze hanging over Victor's Village. Annie walked down the square to the blackened shell of her house. It had been old. Reused after one of the first victors had died. The villages in one and two had been expanded past the original set to accommodate their high number of Victors. Four was not yet at that point, but they were nearing it. Annie's was the last available house. Now it was gone. She'd miss the loom more than the house.

"Cresta!"

Annie didn't want to see Miranda. She was in her thirties, harsh-faced and rude on the best days, prickly and demeaning on the worst. Annie tried to lose herself in the rubble.

"Quit hiding girl - I can see you."

Annie gave up and sat on a pile of bricks.

"Did my parents get out okay?"

"Shit, Cresta. I'm supposed to stall until Odair gets back." The older woman picked at a her nails rather than look her in the eye.

"That bad huh?"

"I'm not doing this with you. I'm not good at the whole bedside manner thing."

"Then don't bother," Annie met her eyes as steadily as she could. "Just tell me and I'll be out of your hair."

"Listen, Odair's due back any minute now. He'll say it all soft and hold your hand or-"

"They're dead, aren't they?"

Miranda pressed her lips together. "Your mom. Your father wasn't home."

"He's alive then?" It was more than she expected, to still have one parent.

Miranda hesitated. "He..."

"What?"

"He left, Annie. Before the fire. No one's seen him."

Annie dropped her eyes down to the ground. That fit. She didn't blame him for running. She would if she could. She didn't blame him, but she did hate him. Hated him for being able to pack up a bag and leave. She wondered if he bothered saying good bye to her mother. Not that it really mattered now of course. But someone should have.

Annie stood up and started to turn towards the beach. Get up and leave. Maybe she could too.

"Cresta- really. I'm no good at this. You should wait here for Odair. He'll know what to do with you."

Annie ignored her and continued to the walk to the cliff face. After a hundred yards, she heard a shout.

"Annie!"

She sped up. When she started to hear footfalls, Annie broke into a run. Finnick was fast, but she had a head start and a definitive end to the race. Her lungs burned and her legs ached, like they had when the dam broke. She was close, so close. If she was careful, she would be able to aim for the rocks and not bother with any more burning lungs.

"Annie!"

Her heart was about to burst. Finnick was catching up. Annie screamed in rage and pushed harder, speeding up in the last few yards to the edge of the cliff. She felt rock crumble under her leading foot when an arm snagged around her. She jerked violently and she felt the body crashing into hers lose its balance. Now it would look like a tragic yet romantic double suicide. How embarrassing.

"No!"

With a violent heave, she was wrenched back onto solid ground. Annie rolled away from Finnick and before she realized what she was doing, there was a rock in her hand and she was climbing onto him, a knee on his throat. She could do it. He was bigger, stronger and more experienced than her, but he wasn't expecting this. Not now, not from her. She could  almost see Lorraine and Miranda doing the obligatory interview after. "We sort of knew she was a goner. Finnick went after her. Tried to stop her. Should have just let her get on with it, then he might still be alive."

There was a hand on her throat. She couldn't breathe. There was nothing she could do. If she hit him with the rock, he would let go. If she kept the pressure on his throat, he would also let go. If she gave up on killing him, he would let go. She could kill him and them finish herself on the rocks as planned, but she was starting to doubt she had the energy.

Annie wrenched herself off of him. He let go of her neck and they both heaved in breaths of the air they had been lacking. After a second, his hands shot out and gripped her forearm. Too fatigued to restrain her more effectively, too stubborn to let her roll pathetically to her death after all this trouble. Annie cried, once she had the breath. Neither of them moved.

"I haven't asked, " she rasped after awhile, her voice almost completely wrecked. "How you knew they wouldn't just get rid of me."

"I didn't." He was trying to breath evenly, but it was obvious that it took an extraordinary amount of effort. "But I had to try. To get them to leave you alone."

She thought about this.  Mentors obviously felt responsible for their tributes, but she hadn't heard of them trying to keep them out of the public eye before. Not that she had much desire for the public eye these days. Or anyone's eye. But hermitage was hardly something a mentor would go to the trouble of defending.

"Why?"

"You're a lovely girl, Annie Cresta."

"So you wouldn't want to help me if I were ugly? " But there was something about the way he said it as he caught his breath. Clinical. Like a diagnosis rather than a compliment. Something moved in her memory. A passing thought, not even fully conscious until that moment. _Everyone here would just_ love _to have you._

No. She didn't want to hear about this. Not now, and not from Finnick Odair.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I don't know anything," she tried to jerk her arm out of his grip, but failed. "I'm mad Annie Cresta, remember? Or did you forget the angle you made your Victor play?"

"I thought you told me you weren't playing."

She ground her teeth in annoyance. "I'm not. But you should have kept me together. That's your job, isn't it? You're supposed to make me look good."

"Actually, that's your escort's job."

"Well, my escort is shit."

He had the balls to huff out a weak laugh. "Yeah, sorry about that. I wish you could have had Effie, but I don't make those decisions."

She snorted. Typical. He had nothing to offer but sarcasm and smirks.

"You're all so close, aren't you? Just you and the other Victors. You even know each other's escorts. Am I the only one not allowed to join or is there a whole reject group no one talks about? You know, I should take Snow up on his invitation, show up at the Capital and crash whatever parties you have with Cashmere and Haymitch-"

He sat up and pulled her up to face him with a rough jerk on her arm.

"Snow sells us." There was no anger in his voice when he let it out, but there was a cold dullness in his ocean eyes like he was already regretting helping her live. She'd never been scared of him, still wasn't, but she could see the potential for fear, if she had had anything to lose. Maybe if she kept goading him, she could get him to finish throw her onto the rocks himself. "If a Victor is considered popular and good looking enough, Snow sells us to prominent Capital citizens to try to trap them in debt, keep us Victors in line and to bring in revenue. Since the day you won, I've been trying to make sure no one wanted you. I've never had a Victor before and I couldn't-"

He faltered, unable to find the right words. He finally looked down and Annie breathed freely again.

"I was the youngest ever, Annie. Mags thought she had time to think of something, but even after all these years she didn't realize how fucked up they are. That they'd sell a fourteen year old kid without a second thought. I had to act fast, the second you won. Maybe it wasn't the perfect plan, but you haven't had their hands on you. So if you hate me, fine. I'm not asking you to grovel in gratitude or anything. But I'm doing what I can. I have to."

Annie hated him all the more for telling her. She glared at his wide, side eyes and finally wrested her arm free from his grip, though she stayed where she was. She didn't want this. She wanted Finnick Odair: sleazy sex God and pig-headed peacock. She couldn't take her grief out on Finnick Odair: scared, abused child and Capital slave. Scared, childish, enslaved, and unbelievably kind.

"You could have just let me die."

"You could have just stopped swimming."


	9. Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your kudos, comments, and patience! If you've been holding out, waiting for the romance to kick in, never fear! It is on its way. I wish I could say it's because I'm planning a masterful slow burn in which they creep up on each other, but honestly it's because I'm not used to writing a mutually supportive functional relationship like this.  
> Getting to the point where I get to intro more of the characters we know and love!

After a short stint at the hospital, where Annie did her best impression of a stable human being, she moved into Mags's house, though there was nothing to move. Mags had been released shortly before her, though she now walked with a cane and could barely speak. The doctors said she would improve, but didn't say how much. Annie had noticed that Finnick lived with the old woman too when she first moved to Victor's Village, but only realized why once she was put in the same situation. For all that the three of them had drifted apart, she couldn't bear the idea of living alone now that her parents were gone.

"Three bedrooms per house," Finnick told her when they first brought her into the second oldest house in the Village. "For the Victors that start a family."

Mags let out a gravelly cackle at this and he laughed as well. Annie thought she knew what the joke was, but didn't find it all that funny. In any case, it left one bedroom for each of them. Annie liked it more than her own house. It had been lived in for so long it no longer looked like the others. Everything was covered in a respectable layer of cat hair and clutter. Mags had thousands of hobbies and habits that took up space and collected in piles and drawers all over the living space. Her loom was heavier and louder than the one she had given Annie, and countless skeins of yarn were intermingled with bags of twine, shells and wire in boxes and cupboards. The dining room table was not used for food, but for motors that had fallen into disrepair. Annie opened up three separate drawers looking for silverware on her first day and found them all filled with fishing lure materials.

Mags improved, little by little. Once she stopped getting frustrated and trying to shout, she got better at trimming down her communication to its most vital components, mixing carefully enunciated key words and phrases with simple hand signs. Finnick tried to watch the Avoxes when he was in the Capital to learn their language of gestures, but ultimately, it was the signals the three of them invented themselves that worked best. Her strength improved as well, more when she swallowed her pride and allowed Finnick to carry her up and down the stairs instead of sleeping on the lumpy old couch on the first floor.

Annie improved too. She still broke, still had bad days, but they were bad days. She even laughed inappropriately more than she cried. She had the energy and presence to be embarrassed about it sometimes, but more often than not, it resulted in a storm of inappropriate mirth from all three of them for no reason other than that her laugh was apparently infectious. The noises of the arena still found her, but usually only when too many voices were raised at once, which wasn't often in a house of three people. She still went to the beach some days, sitting on the sand, the rocks, or in the shallow water. She wasn't afraid of the sea. Finnick seemed surprised, but never said anything, as though he was afraid if he reminded her she'd suddenly remember to fear the water. But the sea was different. It rolled, it pitched, it crashed, but it did not rush. She was still Four, and the sea was always home.

She sometimes took out Finnick's schooner, if only just to see his face on her return. She was mean enough to love the mix of relief and frustration he struggled with every time he realized she hadn't gone out to drown herself and that he'd been pacing the beach and snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him for the past few hours for nothing.

He left sometimes, and Annie still hated that she knew why. It was never for very long, except when the Games came again. Mags had taken her out for most of them on an old rust red houseboat for a deep sea fishing trip, but it did little to distract either of them. They came back, sunburned and smelling like salt to hear that the latest Victor was a pretty cutthroat from Seven. Miranda liked her. Finnick came back with bruises like rope around his throat and the stubborn tremor in his hand that wouldn't go away, even after days off the powders he was given for the stretch of the Games. It took several weeks for the house to return to any semblance of 'normal.'

The fact that Annie had a 'normal' made her tense and anxious. It wasn't just a normal. It was a good normal. It was not to say that she still looked for an end some nights. She woke to the calls and screams of the other tributes as they waited to drown. She still didn't clean the fish she caught. She still spent some days in bed staring at the wall. Mags and Finnick didn't seem to know what to do with her on bad days, so they did mostly nothing. But it took her months to realize that they rarely left her alone. One of them was almost always in the next room to her, especially when she was with Mags's haughty old cat.

"I'm not going to kill Captain."

"What?" Finnick's expression was so blank and innocent she almost believed him.

"You don't leave me alone with her."

He held the confused look for another moment, then sighed. "It's just that animals are unpredictable. They make sudden movements and noises. Captain still catches me sometimes and we just don't want any accidents."

Annie nodded and tried not to be angry.

"So how often do you sit and talk about what I might do on a bad day?"

"If it makes you feel any better, not often."

"It does, I guess."

Annie woke one night to hear laughter downstairs. Annoyed at having her rare, peaceful night's sleep interrupted, she wandered downstairs in her sweatpants and nightshirt, not caring if Mags and Finnick saw her without a bra. But her two housemates weren't alone.

"Well hey there, Little Lady," it was the mentor from Twelve, sitting at their breakfast table like he owned the place. "Did we wake you?"

Suddenly very territorial and a little self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest. Annie tried to remember the last time someone other than the three of them had been in the house. The other Victors didn't spend much time there, even. Mags and Finnick met the others in town or their own homes. And how the hell had someone from Twelve gotten to the coast anyway?

"It's three in the morning," she glared at each of them. The man from Twelve looked no better or worse than usual, but Mags was giggling into a tumbler of spirits, and Finnick's neck was pink and his smile loose.

"Train got in just over an hour ago. Take it up with whoever's in charge of that sort of thing."

"Go back to bed, Cresta." Finnick waved her off. "We'll try to be quiet, but let us have our fun."

Setting her jaw, Annie took another tumbler from the cupboard, much to their amusement. An hour later, she was gasping for air along with them at their guest's tales of the most recent Victor's eventful Victory Tour.

"I swear," Haymitch boomed over their peals of laughter. "Right in the goddamn jaw. I saw stars, I really did."

Mags garbled out something so unintelligible, Finnick had to translate.

"What did you say to her?"

"Just 'nice work on your speeches, Dollface.'"

They fell into renewed fits of laughter.

"She knew you were being sarcastic," Finnick snorted, right as Annie said: "No girl wants to be called 'Dollface' by a dirty old man like you."

Haymitch shook his head as though neither of these answers could possibly be true. "Anyway, I like her spark. Should meet her one of these days."

"I have."

It wasn't until the next day that Annie understood what Finnick meant by that. But it wasn't a night for talking about violence and exploitation. It was a night for laughter and storytelling like she hadn't experienced since her games. Even the few moments of lost focus she had didn't sour the mood. The other three just poured her another drink and went on talking to one another until she took her hands off her ears and rejoined the conversation. Before she stumbled over to the couch, Mags forced her and Finnick to down two glasses of water each.

"Thanks Mags," Finnick planted a sloppy kiss on the old woman's head. "Put the pain killers on your dresser, okay?"

She babbled in response and gave him a light smack on the cheek.

"Cheeky old woman."

Annie finished her water dutifully and flopped face-down on the couch. She was far gone enough to feel real relief in closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the room spin anymore.

"Night, Finnick."

"Night, Annie. You're an alright drunk. We'll invite you next time."

"Thanks. 'Drunk Odair' gets you points. You're funny."

"Points?"

She turned her face to speak more clearly. He had dropped down on the floor, spilling half his water in the process. Maybe a few extra points for being flushed and a complete mess.

"Points for being halfway alright."

The next morning, Annie wrestled with consciousness, and then Captain for over an hour before she dragged herself to her feet and into the bathroom for painkillers and water. Haymitch was already gone and no one seemed bothered telling her when he had left. Mags hummed with far too much cheer as she cooked them a greasy, pungent breakfast of sausages and ham. Annie barely licked hers and glared at Finnick from across the breakfast table as he grinned and winked at her between mouthfuls of the stuff. If she ever needed more proof that Victors were inhuman, this was it.


	10. Johanna Mason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for your support. As you might have guessed, I'm still struggling to get the romance out so I'm stalling with everyone's favorite murderous lumberjack.

She went to bed early one night and drifted off while reading. She had been trying to wait up to avoid the nightmares but the howling wind outside had lulled her better than any drug. She didn't dream of the arena but of the ocean. She dreamt of thousands of multi-colored fish. They swam in front of her eyes in a whirlwind, not pausing long enough to become clear.

There was a pounding and a crash sometime later. Annie thought it was thunder finally breaking through. Then there was laughter. It wasn't Mags, but it sounded female. Voices volleyed back and forth, peaking and dropping erratically. Fully awake now, Annie wrapped herself in a sweater and padded down the stairs.

"Haymitch- Haymitch told me about taking the wrong t-train when they have you for business. S-said he comes here some-sometimes."

"Sit. What did they give you?"

"Nothing this time. Tha-that's why."

"You're shivering. Was it pills or powders?"

Annie stopped at the foot of the stairs, not wanting to add to the confusion of the conversation in the kitchen. There was a girl, about Annie's age, shivering in a long, dark coat. She couldn't seem to stand still. Finnick was trying to hold her steady by the elbows, but she twisted out of his grip, wandering and shaking, still laughing. Mags hovered in the corner, brewing tea and looking anxious. Annie's eyes dropped when she noticed a trickle of blood showing just under where the coat stopped at her knees. She was about to usher the girl upstairs to get her cleaned up and protected, but Finnick was helping her with the coat.

"Take your coat off and sit down, Johanna. You need to-"

Annie clapped a hand over her mouth. As Finnick pulled the girl's coat away, a dark bloom of red was revealed. The Victor was soaked. She was only wearing silk under things, and the left side of her bra was torn, leaving her breast bare and caked in the drying blood.

"Who-"

The girl flapped a hand as though it weren't important. "Politician. Wanted me- wanted me like at the beginning. They didn't even give me drink and he was this huge beast- you know? Like that transport heir you had last time. I was going to just give him what he wanted, but it hurt so much-"

"Johanna- listen to me." Finnick's voice was fast and low. "You killed your client?"

"Obviously."

"Your peacekeeper escort team?"

"Gorgeous, they won't even know which parts belong to who."

Annie found her way to the dining room table and sat down. Mags had a hand over her heart. The girl was still laughing.

"Jo..."

"Don't. Please don't. I know, Finnick. I know."

"He doesn't bluff. I told you he doesn't bluff."

"Stop it. You're running my good mood. I'm not stupid."

"Not stupid, huh? I told you. I told you and you still thought you could push back. You still thought you could call the bluff-"

"I know they're dead alright?" She wasn't laughing anymore.  There was still a smile though, shivering and twisted, but a smile. "I know. I know, I know, I know. The second they found the bodies, mom was gone. And Mikey. And granddad. They're gone. Burned up or tossed on the river or poisoned or just shot in the head. Maybe they didn't even bother making it look natural. Maybe they're strung up in the loft for me to find. What was it for you? How did they do it?"

Finnick didn't answer. He ran a hand down his face and swallowed. Annie took a shaky breath.

"Fire. They burned mine."

Johanna Mason noticed Annie for the first time. She dragged her eyes up and down Annie's body.

"You tasting that, Finn? Can I?"

Finnick sighed and turned away from her. "Mags? Can you?"

Mags nodded and approached the girl carefully, taking her elbow and leading her upstairs. Annie stared at the table top.

"Her family?"

"Dead. Definitely by now. They'll come for her in a few hours. I just hope she's calmed down then. Might not really matter."

Annie swallowed. "Will they kill her?"

"No. She's a favorite and too new. Adds conflict to our little cast. People love to hate her and hate to love her. There'd be an uproar if she disappeared."

Annie nodded. "And your-"

"Father. I said no once. Once."

"Who-" she didn't think of how this was grossly invasive. She just needed to know how this worked. What if he was wrong. What if she would be reintroduced to high Capital society as another Victor for sale?

"Mags."

"But Mags is a Victor."

"A 77 year old Victor who had a stroke a year ago. People would mourn, but they wouldn't question. Most of us- it's safe to care about. Being in the public eye gives us some security. Not Mags, not Haymitch, not you."

"Me-"

"No one would be surprised if you overdosed or swam out into the bay and didn't come back."

Annie blinked. "Thanks for the brutal honesty."

"I'm just explaining how it works. Why I have to be careful."

Annie poured a cup of Mags's tea rather than respond to this. She wasn't Sure she liked the idea of being someone else's vulnerable spot. She hated being her own vulnerable spot  as it is.

"But they will kill Johanna's whole family?"

"I think so. There's at least three bodies she's responsible for. She's got a mother, brother, and grandfather. Snow is poetically fair about these kind of things."

Annie sipped her tea. "So she's free."

"Annie..." He was giving her a look. A ' you're being morbid and it's not funny this time' look.

"Well she didn't have anyone trying to protect her like I did. She had to take it into her own hands somehow." She stared deliberately into her tea. "I guess I never said it. Thanks. I guess. I know that's kind of not enough. And kind of anti climactic, but it's all I've got, Odair."

He offered her a wry smile. "No problem, Cresta."

"No problem?"

He winced. "Bad word choice. I just mean I would have had more trouble not doing it. I'm better at doing something than not."

"I'm getting that."

He smiled and poured a cup of tea for himself. Annie considered him, trying to decide how much their visitor had shaken him. His hands were steady on the mug and kettle. Steady, but white.

"Do you know her well?"

Finnick shook his head. "Not well. But they started her only a few months in. Sold her a week straight. She's popular."

"What should we do?"

"Stay up. Wait for the peacekeepers to show up. Don't get in their way. Hope she doesn't resist. Not that things could get much worse. But still."

Annie nodded. "I'll keep Captain out of the way I guess."

"Good call." He stirred his customary ton of sugar into his tea. "You should go up there."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I don't know if I'm the person she should be talking to right now."

Annie wasn't sure she understood, but nodded. She finished her tea and took the long climb up the stairs and into the bathroom, stopping at the linen cabinet for a reason for showing up.

"Can I come in?"

"Mmmhm."

Mags sat next to the bath, gently scrubbing at their guest's shoulders. The girl had deflated. Like a wet cat, she was smaller and more sickly in the bath. She stared straight ahead not reacting even when the soapy water dripped into her eyes at Mags's somewhat clumsy washing.

"Thank." Mags's voice was low. The girl didn't respond to the speech or the new presence in the room. "Finish."

"What?"

Mags didn't repeat herself, but got to her feet and left. Annie fumed silently. She was the mess in this house. How was she supposed to fix a bigger mess?

"Fire, huh?"

Annie took a few steps to the bath and knelt in Mags's place on the floor.

"Right after my tour."

"How long did they sell you before you refused?"

Annie didn't know what to say. "They- they didn't. Too crazy I guess."

The girl was quiet. "Didn't bother, huh?"

"Thought I might hurt someone I guess." It came out of her mouth before she could stop herself. The girl blinked at her. Then laughed.

"Bet on the wrong fucking horse, didn't they?"

"I guess so." Annie offered her a half smile and started where Mags had left off rinsing the girl's hair.

"I saw your Games."

"I didn't see yours."

"Too bad. I was a real show stopper."

Annie didn't know what to say to this, so she didn't say anything.

The next morning, the peacekeepers came for Johanna before the sun came up. She smiled and flirted with each of them. Annie watched with Mags and Finnick from the kitchen, so tense Annie could hear Finnick's teeth grind. As the helmet guards led her to the door, Johanna blew a kiss to each of them.

"See you never, Odair! Sent in my resignation and I doubt they'll want me herding the kiddies come summer. Nice to meet you, Mags, Crazy."


	11. The Kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo- little late this week, but still on track. Tried my hand at kickstarting a very important aspect of Annie's life, and I feel like things are going to start happening fast for our Victors.

It was summer again and Annie felt the Games breathing down her neck. She knew that she would not be asked to mentor, but she still felt a buzz in the air and in her blood. Every day it seemed she saw another sign of the coming festivities. Teens shopping in town with their parents for new dress clothes, Mags going to extra meetings at the training center to decide if they would nominate a volunteer, the scar on her side aching. Soon Mags would take her out fishing so there would be no chance of her seeing the reaping. It would be the same as the year before, except somehow worse. Last year Annie's mind had been dark enough that the added horror could not change her state of mind. Now, with a certain level of happiness, she had sanity to lose.

That's what she called it: a certain level of happiness. She wasn't okay. The others frequently confirmed that Victors are never okay. But she was happy on the days that weren't bad, and that had to be enough. She even visited the other Victors' houses some days. They were odd, difficult and sometimes dangerous, but the more time she spent with them, the better she understood. Adrian was so far gone he couldn't even remember why he hated himself anymore, just that he did. Nautica established herself as the militant leader of the training center, though Mags held final sway in all decisions. Dorian drank the way Haymitch did, but to what appeared to be better results. Coral picked fights. Miranda fucked anyone who wouldn't stroke her hair after. Loraine did her best to be a normal mother, asking her brother to look after her son when she felt she was slipping over the edge. It all made sense from a Victor's perspective, and Annie couldn't hate them for any of their faults. She even liked some of them. Miranda and Coral invited her for drinks sometimes. They invited her to sleep with them as well, but she declined.

Mags taught her more weaving and fly knots. Annie was spending more time outside than before. She no longer froze up at the thought of someone coming to the dock while she fished or even walked past her on the beach. She still froze when she actually met someone other than the Victors, but it was a rare occurrence. Must locals avoided the Victor's section of beach, despite there being no rules against trespassing.

"Catch anything?"

Annie looked up from her line at Finnick and kicked her toes at the water below her. She'd been sitting on the dock for more than an hour, more to get out of the house than to catch dinner. When she stayed in too long, she started to get comfortable. When she got comfortable, her memories blurred together and she almost forgot the names of the tributes that crept into the corners of her vision at sundown.

"Naw. Just getting some sun."

"Bad idea. You burn like toast."

She punched his calf. "It'll be dark soon anyway."

"I guess."

Finnick sat next to her and started tying off a fresh hook. "You okay?"

Annie pulled her line in and recast. She still had trouble with conversations sometimes. It was easier when things were light and joking, but serious questions about her well-being always sent her places she didn't want to be.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on."

He wasn't trying to force eye contact, and she was grateful. She knew this conversation had been coming. He would be leaving soon, whether he was chosen to mentor or not. Annie stayed staring at her line.

"You're moming."

She didn't need to look to picture his grimace. "Gross."

"Yeah."

"Okay," he tossed his line out. "It's just I'm leaving on Thursday. Don't want you freaking out and cooking Captain or something."

"No, she's way too fast. Mags might have to look out though."

He snorted and twitched the line. "I'll let her know. But is there anything we can do to figure out how to avoid you killing and eating the only mother I've ever known?"

Annie shrugged. "Doubt it. Put some extra locks on her door and fill the fridge with raw meat. That should keep me covered for awhile."

"Fair enough." He cleared his throat. Here it came. He cleared his throat when he had planned extensively what he was about to say. "Listen, I'm serious. You've just been doing so well, but the Games are a hard time for all of us. I'm not going to be around for awhile so-"

"Shouldn't be me that needs coddling just now." She was staring at his denim-covered knee. When he was able to choose his own clothes, Finnick always wore thick sweaters and heavy, shapeless trousers. Cable knit, denim and utilitarian canvas jackets seemed to be the only things he wore, regardless of the weather. It had taken her far too long to put together why. "What about you? You going to be okay?"

"Better than ever."

"Don't 'I'm fine' me. I'm the one that 'I'm fine's you."

"Come on."

"Come on," she mimicked. "Don't do that. You always -" Annie stopped, not sure what she was saying anymore. It wasn't the conversation this time, she was almost sure she had heard and processed everything that had been said. But she didn't know what she was accusing Finnick of just now.

He nodded and pulled in his empty line, saving her from figuring out what to say. "I'll live. I always do.

"That doesn't say much."

"Yeah."

Annie wanted to say more and she wasn't sure if it was her Games addled mind or the situation that made it so hard. She was starting to forget what she had been like before the Games and she knew that should frighten her, but it was almost a relief. She was forgetting what it was like to want to be noticed by crowds, to be annoyed when she was treated like a child, to tell polite white lies to strangers and to wish she had a more interesting life. She also forgot what it was like to care what Mags thought of her and wonder what Finnick's many expressions meant. She always knew now. Right now, his loose, quirked lips meant he was sad, but content. She would have never thought it was possible to be content with sadness in her life before. Now it sounded nice. Sad was calm. Sad didn't scream or claw at its own skin. Sad just shed small, quiet tears at dawn and sipped warm tea and cool liquor before bed. Sad didn't sound so terrible now. It cooked breakfast and fed the cat and sat comfortably close on the couch without touching and sometimes smiled a smile that forgot to act the gesture and instead was honest and beautiful. Sad was better company than crazy too.

"We miss you when you're gone." It felt awkward to say, but she pushed through. "Mags mostly, but you know. You make good breakfast so I guess I sort of miss you too."

"Wow. Thanks." Sad also meant knowing the right time to make a joke during a serious conversation so neither of the participants would drown.

"I'm serious though. You're -" she stopped again and gave up this time. She couldn't say what she wanted to. That they were family now. It sounded stupid and childish and emotional, even in her head. Finnick was used to her stopping in the middle of a sentence by now and didn't push it. She was grateful again.

His hands were working hard at pulling knots and kinks out of his line. His fingers and palms should be worn, but she knew how the Capital could scrub off calluses in less than a minute, leaving skin pink and soft, but tingling and raw. When he sailed, his hands bled and no matter how often he went out on the water, it only took one trip to the Capital to wear away the work he had done.

The sun had slipped under the horizon while they sat and clouds were darkening above them.

"We should go in. There's a storm coming."

"Not for awhile I'll bet."

"I'll take that."

It started to rain not more than five minutes later. They pulled in their empty lines and started back to the house. Annie's hair soaked up water like a sponge and it wasn't long before her head felt heavy. Finnick's hair was a sad mop when it was wet, an image she always loved. They left their soaked jackets on the porch along with their fishing tackle.

Annie hated this. She didn't want to think about the house without him. It was always so quiet. She hated trying to fill the silence with Mags, who didn't speak as much, knowing Annie didn't understand as well as Finnick. Annie hated when he left maybe most of all because she knew why and her traitorous mind liked to put together scenes as she lay in bed at night.

"I wish you didn't have to go."

He blinked at her. Another day she might have laughed at the dumbstruck look on his dripping face. Annie fidgeted with her hands, but forced eye contact.

"Can I...?" She didn't finish, but stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Finnick looked down, then raised his eyebrows in question. Annie tried to ignore the nagging feeling that she didn't remember if she'd ever really touched him on purpose before. The uncertainty bothered her more than the lack of it. "Please?"

He hesitated so long she thought it had been a mistake. It was probably a mistake. His ocean eyes wouldn't go anywhere near hers. That was not a good sign. He was generally fine with eye-contact while she searched around for anything inanimate in the vicinity to focus on. But he finally nodded.

Annie gripped the front of his sweater and kissed him. It took longer than she would have liked, but he kissed back. Annie didn't want to stop, but thought it was only polite, since she hadn't gotten the full request out in the first place. Still, it was hard to step back when the contact of their lips had sent warmth through her whole body and made her feel just a little stupid and giddy.

"That okay?"

He nodded again. Still no eye contact. Was this what it was like talking to her? Annie couldn't help but feel sorry for anyone who had tried to speak to her lately.

"Can you say something maybe? I'm starting to feel like the only one who talks anymore."

He laughed and rubbed a hand over his mouth. It was his real laugh, the one that stuttered and wandered in pitch and tempo. All else aside, he was very sweet when he was flustered. "Sure, Annie. It's okay. It's more than okay."

"More than okay?" She reestablished her grip on his sweater and tried not to let her grin spread too wide. He already had that spark of mischief in his eye that said he was about to tease her. Annie didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that kissing him was much nicer than she had anticipated, and she had anticipated it being _very_ nice.

"Yeah. Definitely."

She threw caution to the winds this time and pressed her mouth against his before he had finished speaking. Her force and urgency was met equally and soon enough Annie felt her back hit the side of the house. Meeting one another in the middle for the first kiss hadn't seemed that difficult, but now that they were moving against each other, their difference in height was becoming an obstacle. Annie was stretched up as high as she could manage and he still needed to bend just to reach her mouth. His hands were staying firmly on her waist, but she couldn't help but think things would be easier if he had pinned her up a little higher on the wall.

"Maybe-" she was a little embarrassed at how breathless she was after just a little kissing. The last boy she had kissed had been sixteen and breathed loudly through his nose the whole time he squeezed just one breast over and over. This was just a little more involved. "Inside?"

Annie let out a highly embarrassing squeak as his hands dropped to her thighs and he picked her up, kicking the door open in front of him and laughing into her hair. Annie promised herself to get him back later. But when he set her down on the counter and slid his hands up her thighs with more purpose than she'd ever seen him do anything, she was far too busy congratulating herself for the foresight to wear a dress that day to be distracted by thoughts of revenge.

~

Annie waited until she heard Finnick finish in the shower before getting up. Not that Mags would have any reason to suspect anything if they went downstairs at the same time, but it was that kind of juvenile paranoia that came with a new affair. She hadn't had that many affairs in her life. But she suspected not much changed with years and experience.

She'd gone back to her own bed, and he to his, after. It felt right, to gather her underwear off the floor and not say a word to each other. Because what was there to say? "Goodnight"? "See you tomorrow"? "Thanks"?

Mags was banging pots and pans around the kitchen, humming off key to the radio. Finnick was doctoring his coffee to his exact specifications.

"Morning." She was decent at faking nonchalance. Before the Games, she had often lied to her mother about going to a friend's house when instead she met friends or boys down by the pier. Mags slapped down a plate of egg toast and a glass of milk.

"Thanks, Mags."

"We have any ham?"

Mags dropped down Finnick's scrambled eggs in reply, still humming.

"Oh. Thanks."

He was very carefully not looking at her, not in a 'I don't want to look at you' kind of way, but in a 'Oh you're up? I didn't notice because exactly nothing has changed' kind of way. She was very carefully only looking at him in passing, as though he were a piece of furniture. Neither of them were looking at the other side of the room. Where the counter was.

"Better have cleaned off counter after- where I made breakfast."

Finnick dropped his mug a few inches from the surface of the table, splashing coffee across everything. He glanced quickly at Annie, checking if she had understood. She guessed her flush and wide eyes answered.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Annie mumbled. "You know I'm useless in the kitchen."

"Not from sound of things."

Annie winced and tried to pretend that her ears weren't burning.

"I'm going out early to catch some lunch." Finnick's voice was louder than usual and he left without another word, abandoning Annie to deal with the situation on her own. She glared at his back and hoped she'd left stinging scratches down his back that would get infected. She played with her fork, scowling when the old woman laughed.

"Shit, twenty-one- acts like I'll ground him for necking cute neighbor girl."

"Sorry, Mags." She was only just now thinking of what happened in the proper context. At the time, it had been harmless. Now, she couldn't chase away the feeling that she'd done something horrible. "I wasn't thinking last night."

"Regret?"

She sipped her milk. "Kind of. But not for myself?"

Mags nodded her approval and sat across from her. Annie felt a small wave of relief she hadn't been expecting. It made sense though. Mags knew Finnick better than anyone. If she wasn't angry with Annie, then it couldn't have been that terrible of a mistake. Still. It felt a bit like a mistake.

"I'd be open to suggestions," she said, her voice flat and lame.

"Can't say right path. Might good for him. Show it can be different. Might good for you. Show life goes on. Or bad for both. Or good for one bad for other."

Annie nodded. The same possibilities had been running through her mind all morning. "I wish I could hit 'pause' and just think about it for awhile before talking to him. I don't know what I want yet. Not sure I can handle finding out what he wants."

Mags hummed in agreement. "Life don't work that way, Baby. Flip a coin."

Annie looked up, sure she had misunderstood. She sometimes did still. "A coin toss?"

Mags shrugged.

"Mags, you care about Finnick's feelings more than your own life. And you want me to leave this up to a coin toss?"

Mags shrugged again. She'd clearly used up all her enunciating energy.

She hobbled off towards the garden, but slapped a coin down on the table before she left. More than a little moody, Annie glared at the coin, but picked it up.

_Heads I tell him it was all a big mistake, tails I say I want to make something of it._

Heads. That wasn't right. There were more possibilities than that.

_Heads I tell him I don't regret it, but we should leave it where it is because we're both fucked up beyond belief, tails I say I'm open to casual sex if he is._

Tails. Well that was incongruous. She tried a few more times.

"Hey."

She raised her eyebrows at him. Finnick was standing in the doorway looking a little too pink and sheepish. Good.

"Thanks for throwing me to the wolf, jackass."

"Sorry. What are you doing?"

"Flipping a coin to figure out what I should say to you."

"Yeah? " He crossed the kitchen to sit on the other side of the table. "What does the coin say?"

"That it was a mistake, but we should definitely have casual sex, but we should take a boat and run away together and also I should say I only like girls to spare your feelings."

"That's kind of a mixed message."

"I know. Here you try."

She rolled the coin across to him. He picked it up, turning it over in his fingers before he flipped it once, twice, three times.

"Verdict?"

"We should move to separate islands, get married, and possibly kill ourselves."

"Is that a loving suicide pact or a 'dying of shame' kind of thing?"

"Not sure."

Annie couldn't help it, she found herself grinning at him. He raised his eyebrows at her. Subtext: I hardly see what's so funny about all of this, Cresta.

"Never thought I'd have this kind of problem ever again," she explained. "I feel like we're normal."

His smile cracked open too. One of the genuine ones. Another moment of relief. She hadn't ruined her certain level of happiness.

"Yeah it's... something isn't it?"

"Sure something." She chewed her lip for a moment. Air clearing aside, they really need to decide what was to be done. If she had been thinking at all the night before, she probably would have decided the sex wasn't worth the logistical fallout, even if it was fast and clumsy in the way it should be when you're propped up on a kitchen counter. "Can we maybe just be on hold? We won't pretend it didn't happen, but we won't make a decision yet either? Not until one of us figures out what they want?"

He nodded, looking not a little relieved. Annie let out a breath and took back her wish of infection.


	12. Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missed last week but I think I'm back on track now! Thank you for your patience and support!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed an update last week but now I'm back on track! Thank you for your patience and support!

Once Finnick left, Annie and Mags fought almost immediately. It wasn't about anything, but it was about Annie being safe from mentoring and selling. Annie hated knowing Finnick's lot was worse to protect her and Mags was scared she was thinking of doing something stupid. Mags woke her early the morning after he left with a bag of clothes and supplies dropped onto her lap.

"What the fu-"

"Up." She set a tackle box on the dresser as well. "Fishing."

Annie groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. A gnarled walking stick smacked her hard in the back of the thigh.

"Shit- Mags!"

"Up. Fishing."

Annie considered refusing, but a voice in the back of her mind pointed out she didn't want to stretch the fight out. She sat up and took the clothes Mags threw at her. They were out on the water before the sun was up. They didn't speak for the first day and crawled into their bunks early in the evening.

In the morning, they caught a full net of jacksmelt and it was suddenly like they never fought. They laughed and joked freely, cursing one another and gossiping about the other Victors.

"You better not do anything pointless."

Annie propped her feet up and stripped off her shirt to catch more sun.

"I'm not stupid."

"Yes you are. We all are. Makes life hard, don't it?"

She hummed in agreement. "I don't like it. I'm not- I don't contribute. I don't like being useless."

"Dumber than I thought."

"Fuck off."

"No. That how they think. Not how you have to."

Mags told her about her childhood, halting and frustrated every time Annie asked her to repeat herself. She told her about how life had been before the games. She didn't remember much, but her parents had raised her the only way they knew how - as a child to be protected. For the next generation, things were different.

"Children weren't children after it was clear games would continue. It was normal for everyone after few decades."

Annie listened, trying to imagine a perspective where it was an unspeakable horror to see young men and women trying to kill one another. Mags told her about how she had won the Games before there was such a thing as Careers, about how her family left inland the moment she won and no one spoke to her for years. About a girl named Meena whose ring Mags still wore. About how she was recruited by the mayor for the training center when she was twenty-five. How with every year that went by, children grew less afraid and more excited for the Games. How in spite of her best efforts, she had gotten attached to a skinny child from the docks who scored higher on his training tests than any of the other children and followed her home when his father was working. About how she had fought the rest of the Victors tooth and nail to wait until the usual optimal age of sixteen, but they hadn't had a Victor in fifteen years and they were desperate to make use of the boy's straight teeth and sparkling ocean eyes. How she had taken the pills at the Capital so she could stay up and get her boy every sponsor with a spare cent. How the peacekeepers had had to knock her on the temple to take him back to the Capital the first time.

"So what does that have to do with me hating that Finnick and you have to take care of me?"

Mags shook her head. "People want life of Victor - think we don't work. Capital don't let that happen. You know that. Won't let anyone be useless. That's how they think. Useless. Useful."

Annie nodded. "Doesn't make me like it any more."

Mags breathed through her nose the way she did when she was annoyed. "Meena was useless to Capital. Crippled hands. Starving on street when I met her. When love someone, you take care of them."

Annie wasn't comfortable with this, so she turned onto her stomach to tan her back.

They pulled in a week into the Games, hoping the fish they caught would keep them from having to go into town where they might see signs of what was happening in the Capital. There was a figure waiting for them on the dock.

"Took you two long enough," Haymitch was well into the bottle of gin that Mags had just bought that week. "Been waiting."

"Been fishing." Mags hobbled onto the dock and kissed him. Annie followed, but hung back. She liked Haymitch, but in the way that required her to pretend she couldn't stand him.

"What're you doing here Haymitch?"

"Coming to visit my two favorite ladies," he flipped a hand at her. "Dropped out of the running early this year. Thought it might be fun to do some fishing."

"Just got back." Mags tossed him a line to tie off.

"I need to talk to you, Mags."

Annie frowned and crossed her arms over her stomach. Haymitch was still smiling, but it was a postured and effected the way Finnick's was when he was afraid.

"Bout what?"

"Rebellion."

Mags punched him in the mouth. It couldn't have been that forceful- she still needed help with most physical tasks, even after a year and a half of recovery- but Haymitch had the grace to reel back anyway.

"Stupid boy."

"I'm 38, Magdalen."

Mags made a face and shoved the cooler of fish into his arms. "You'll help clean."

"I'd like to talk to Annie too."

"Annie doesn't clean."

Annie felt a knee-jerk sulk take hold of her. Rebellion. She doubted she could force the word past her own lips, but to be excluded from what the two older Victors were talking about would be unbearable.

"I could help. I don't have to use the knives to help."

"We'll take walk after dinner."

Haymitch shrugged and balanced the gin on top of the cooler. "Suit yourself."

Annie made pasta while they cleaned the fish on the lawn. They were talking, she could see that much through the kitchen window. Mags was hard to read. She was nodding along to everything Haymitch was saying. She also kept slamming her cane against the table.

They ate quickly, their conversation clipped and forced. As always in the summer, there was nothing to talk about except the Games. They left the dishes in the sink and went out to the cliff.

"It's safe here?"

Mags shrugged. Annie tried to hide her smile. The cliff was safe. They frequently swept it with a device Beetee Latier had given to Mags years ago. It sabotaged any electronic devices within 50 yards. Mags liked to ignore pleas for information to make things seem more dangerous than they were. She had once told Annie they were sailing with no fresh water or anchor three hours into a trip.

"Alright. Well you know how it is with the rest of them. Hard to get a read when they've been playing the same role for decades. I got both from Three. Half of six. And Eleven. Not bad. But I need help."

He had no rapport with One, Two and half the others. Everyone respected Mags. Even One and Two came to her at times for advice.

He told them that Beetee had reason to believe they could get someone. An official in the Capital directly tied to the Games. Things had to move slowly though. They could only speak through escorts buying Victors most of the time. Haymitch's escort had been sending information between him, Finnick and the other "desirable" Victors for years, but it was a careful and slow process. Often, the information was irrelevant by the time it had passed to everyone. But they were getting better, and as the size of their network grew, the members were getting more and more restless.

"We don't have anything," Haymitch was picking at the bark on the nearest tree, clearly agitated. " _I_ don't have anything. It's all just ideas. Concepts. We need a catalyst to bring it together, but for now, we just need to know who's in and what their level of involvement can be. I know I can count on Finnick, but last time I spoke to you-"

Mags snorted and fell into her tangled, angry speech patterns. Haymitch raised his eyebrows at Annie until she started to attempt to translate.

"She- she doesn't like that you recruited Finnick when he was fifteen. She doesn't want to throw her name in the ring until she knows what's happening." She shrugged apologetically. "She only wants info until she hears a plan and likes it."

"Bullshit!"

Annie jumped and her shoulders closed in toward her body. Haymitch started to shout and he and Mags argued at top volume. For just a few moments, Haymitch's voice slid and was echoed by Jewel's.

"Bullshit Mags- this isn't a bookclub-"

_"Bullshit Two- you're not carrying both the canteen and jerky-"_

Annie had to cover her ears and curl up at the base of a tree. She lost track of the argument and time in general, but when she regained her focus, Mags was sitting next to her and Haymitch was pacing, looking very pleased with himself. Mags's gnarled hands were kneading her shoulders. Realizing what she must have looked like while she had lost time, she shrugged the old woman off.

"So, I guess I'm not qualified for the inner circle, huh?"

Haymitch shrugged and Mags wouldn't look at her.  
"Probably not, Little Lady. But come on- do you really want in that deep?"

Annie stared at the ground between her feet rather than answering. She didn't want in. She just wanted her certain level of happiness. But she didn't like the looks on their faces in the wake of the argument, or that Haymitch was so certain he could "count on" Finnick.

"Don't worry, Little Lady. You'll always have people taking care of you, no matter what happens."

After the Games were over, Finnick came back. He hadn't been mentoring, but they had kept him busy for the full length of the Games anyway. A win from One meant that Cashmere and Gloss would be preferred until their tribute was entered into the purchase system, so he'd spend likely months at home before another call to the Capital.

It didn't take long for Annie to start going to his room when the nightmares kept her awake. They rarely went as far as in the kitchen, but hot hands running over her body were certainly preferable to shivering and crying alone. Sometimes he would pull away, just when her pulse started to pound, and she tried not to take it as the rejection it felt like. Sometimes, he would have nightmares while she was there, and she had more than a few bruises from his unconscious thrashing. But even on those nights, she didn't go back to her own room. Other times, they only slept, or pretended to for one another's sake. They never went to bed together, but almost half the nights, she ended up padding across the hall.

Once, when Mags was away visiting Cecilia, he caught her staring as he dug through the fridge, not having bothered to put on more than a pair of jeans. Saying Finnick Odair had a good body was meaningless. Everyone was attracted to him- it went without saying. Annie couldn't help but think there had to be math involved. Some kind of golden ratio between his shoulders and hips, a geometry that shaped each bone and muscle and deemed the result a mathematical certainty of "perfect." The perfect that had saved and killed him a hundred times over.

"Sorry."She was genuinely ashamed. She felt small and stupid, sitting on the counter with her feet dangling down like a child. "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's..." He was choosing his words carefully. "Alright. I guess."

"Not really." She ran a hand through her hair. Or tried to. She didn't hide behind it the way she had when she first moved into Mags's house, but she still played with it, pulling at knots and scratching at her head when things got uncomfortable. "It's sort of hard to balance wanting you with trying not to be like them."

"You're not. Like them, I mean." It was hard to read him when he was like this, not meeting her eyes and fumbling for words. Annie thought it might be because he was being completely honest. Even at home, it seemed he had to draw on his Capital acting to exude any kind of surety. "It's different with you. I know it is. It's just sometimes I over think it and I have to just breath. You don't- I mean, I'm good. With you. Looking. Touching. Whatever." He pulled up a smile and leaned against the counter, striking a seductive pose. "Get an eyefull, Miss Cresta."

Annie laughed and whistled.

"Impressive stuff, Mr. Odair."


	13. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with my awkward romance just a little bit longer friends, plot is on the way!

They started actually going to bed together right before Finnick was called to the Capital once more. Annie tried to tell herself it wasn't different this time, but it was. Mags was starting to teach her different designs to make in her weaving. It went well, up until the day that the greens and yellows blurred together until they were moss. Moss that was under her face when they shoved her down, right before they pulled her up by the hair to make her watch.

She was screaming and shaking and couldn't stop, even when Mags held her on the living room floor. The screaming didn't subside for almost an hour, but Mags still rocked her, humming tunelessly.

"I'm sorry, Mags," she whispered when the sobs were almost finished. "It's- it's been so long since I've done that."

"So proud of you, Baby. Know that? Done so much these past two years. You should be so proud."

They got up and Mags made them tea. She kept shooting Annie strange looks that didn't quite fit with the types of strange looks you give a mad girl. Annie was well versed in strange looks.

"What?"

Mags shook her head. "I was just thinking you might be in trouble is all."

Annie flushed. She knew what the older generation meant when they said a woman was 'in trouble.'

"I'm not. We're- um. Careful."

Well, not the first time, but that was months ago.

"Wasn't what I meant."

"Sure it wasn't."

"Only meant his was the only name you were screaming to help you this time."

This was a surprise. "I didn't know I said anything."

"Oh yes. Every time, Baby. Usually for your mother, sometimes that boy Drift, sometimes me, but this time it was just Finnick. And the worst was, I think you really thought he could help."

Annie looked down at her tea. "Oh." Was all she could think of to say.

"You stopped going to your own bed first," she didn't say it like an accusation, but it felt like one. Annie shifted uncomfortably in her chair and tugged her hair into her face.

"Seems simpler."

"Careful there, or he might start expecting it." Mags was teasing her, but the real warning was still present.

"Can't have that, can we? Might start thinking I like his company or some nonsense."

"Perish the thought."         

When he came back, Annie didn't have to pretend it wasn't different. He arrived early in the morning, and sat with Mags in the kitchen, speaking quietly. Annie tried not to eavesdrop, but she had to go down for breakfast sometime.

"Screamed about 45 minutes," Annie hardly struggled to understand Mags anymore. "Something in the weaving. And she asked for you, but didn't remember after."

"We're the only ones she's got left now, I guess. She's doing better though. What's it been? Two months since the last break?"

Annie tried not to be offended that he was keeping track. She shifted her weight and said a silent prayer that the stair wouldn't creak. Maybe she was eavesdropping. Just a little.

"And you, my love? You haven't been called away in months. Haven't seen you break in almost as long, but it's different now, isn't it?"

"I'm fine. When I'm there, I'm there, and when I'm here, I'm here."

"Boy you know I must love you, if I let you lie like that."

Annie figured this was just as good a moment as any to interrupt. She stamped loudly on the last few steps to announce her presence.

"Morning," she kissed Mags on the head as she passed and almost touched Finnick's shoulder, but thought better of it. His eyes looked either rimmed with dark circles or bruised, it was hard to tell. And of course, his lips were dry and his hand shook.

She tried to keep the mood of the room up as they ate, but it was clear after several minutes that it wasn't going to happen. When he finished eating, Finnick excused himself and left for the docks.

"I shouldn't follow, should I?"

"I was just going to ask the same thing." Mags let out a hefty sigh and cracked her knuckles. "Dig weeds with me today. Let's just let him come back to life on his own for awhile."

That night, Annie was determined not to leave her room, regardless of how many nightmares came. She needed to stop being so selfish. As if her need for comfort trumped the horrors he was put through every few weeks. She was embarrassed that it had taken her so long to see it this way. She had become so accustomed to being the one that was taken care of, she had gotten comfortable. Comfortable in not thinking of others before herself.

The floor outside of her room creaked and Annie's throat automatically poised to scream. But she held back, sitting up and straining to see in the dim light. There was a knock so soft she almost didn't hear it.

Finnick didn't say anything or meet her eyes when she opened it. She said his name softly as an invitation to explain. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Annie knew he must be bent double to accomplish this, and she didn't know how to ease the embrace any more than she knew what to say. At last they moved to the bed. This too was new. Going to bed together, but not pulling at one another's clothes, taking him to her bed instead of his. She tried not to notice the tears dripping through her hair. Finnick ran a hand down his face when they finally pulled apart. Annie got into bed and left the covers thrown back for him.

"I'm sorry," his voice was a croak. "You don't have to-"

"Come here, Finnick."

He climbed in and she resumed the embrace they had held in the doorway. Her fingers wandered through his hair and it thankfully seemed to calm him. His arms around her loosened and dropped lower. They lay there in silence for so long, Annie almost thought they wouldn't say anything.

"How did I do it?" His voice was barely more than a breath. "How did I keep going like it was nothing?" Then, after a tense pause.

"There must be something wrong with me."

"Don't say that. You were fourteen."

"And I just went on with my life, smiling and all for the cameras. I was a child, and I killed children. Then I let them fuck me."

"Stop." She sounded pathetic. She couldn't breathe. Annie felt hot, angry tears grip her throat, but refused to let them get any further. It was probably sick, that the only way she could stay together was to watch someone else fall apart. "You didn't let any of that happen. It's not on you. It's on them."

"Then why didn't I refuse?"

"You did. "

"Not right away."

Annie didn't know how to argue against that, so she just hummed and whispered whatever came to her mind. Words of pride and loyalty and things far too close to love to say during the day. Eventually, his breathing slowed and she fell into fitful sleep not long after.

He was still there when she woke up. Her face was pressed to the back of his neck, her arms still loosely thrown around him. Annie had to extract her arms and cover her ears to keep away the swirl of thoughts for awhile. Too many new things. She couldn't stay, even if it would be better for her to. In his room, he was already gone when she woke. She couldn't handle another new step. Annie got up as quietly as she could and went downstairs to find something to eat.

They barely spoke that day, only cementing her earlier decision. The results were in. It had been good for her and bad for him. He likely only realized it once he was in the Capital, but it was clear now. She'd never go to his room again, she couldn't hurt Finnick, even if it made her feel like she had something to hold onto.

They went on for almost a week, only speaking when it would be rude not to. Mags noticed, but didn't say anything for once. On the sixth night, Annie woke so violently that she scratched her nails deep into her own wrist. Annie cried out and cleaned the cuts in the bathroom, her hands shaking so hard that she spilled peroxide everywhere except her bloody arm. She would have been fine, would have gone back to sleep as usual, except she wasn't sure if the dream had been a memory or her imagination. Her body was aching and wanting the comfort it had come to expect from feeling like this. Annie whimpered in frustration as she wrapped up her wrist. She could go to him still. Stay on her side of the bed and just listen to him breath. That was perfectly fine. And why not?

She washed the hot tears from her face and stepped quietly across the hall. His door was open an inch and she did her best to slip through the smallest space possible. He was still and silent. Annie hoped he was asleep. She found the edge of the bed and crawled up to the pillow, not bothering with the blankets on such a warm night. He stirred and she held still, propped awkwardly on one arm and one hip.

"Annie?"

"I'm sorry. You were sleeping-"

He turned as he spoke, his voice tight. "I wasn't."

His kiss was harder and more sure than it had been before. It had been weeks, and Annie's blood began to pound almost immediately, her wrist throbbing. Everything was more desperate even than in the kitchen. All their clothes and sheets were thrown to the floor and it occurred to Annie that this was another first. Before, one of them left on a shirt, or a sheet was tangled between them. Here, every bit of her skin was making contact with every bit of his and little else. He pressed words into her skin and she didn't know if he realized what they were. She left nail marks on his back, but didn't try to stop.  When they were through, they stayed awake, his hands in her hair and her lips pressed to his shoulder.

"I-" he started to speak, but struggled. "I don't want you to go. I want you to sleep here."

She nodded. "I'll move my things in here tomorrow."

He huffed out a breath of relief. "Good."

"I tried to stay away this week. I thought-"

He kissed the corner of her eye. "I know. It's fine."

"I thought I was doing you a favor."

He laughed into her hair and pulled her closer. "Maybe we should make a deal to just ask about these kind of things. Might save time."

"Deal."

"I'll go first. Do you want to sleep here from now on?"

"Yes. Is it alright for me to touch without asking, just so long as I'm always ready to stop if you need me to?"

"Yes." His hand traveled down her arm to the gauze around her wrist. "What happened?"

Annie felt a flush steal over her face. "I wasn't trying- I wasn't trying to die. I had a dream about the arena, and my tracker was blinking at night and I was afraid they would see it." She swallowed. "I think I killed the boy from Twelve, and the two from One. Was that real?"

He held her tight and nodded. "Real."

Annie was grateful that he didn't say anything else.


	14. Four Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say I missed last week's update because it's finals time, but the truth is I'm just that bad at cranking out romance. One dramatic playlist full of my middle school faves later, here you are.  
> I spoke WAY too soon a few chapters ago when I said things would be picking up. I was so wrong. Four years of two people "creeping up" on each other is a lot of space to fill. But NOW things are going to be picking up. For reals this time.

Annie started going into the village for errands. People stared, or tried not to stare, which was worse. In the end, money won out. Victors were wealthier than the mayor. Annie hadn't thought about it, but people had likely been disappointed by her hermitage. The shop keepers, at least. Victors were meant to spread their wealth, it was one of their few public duties. Mags and Finnick did her regular shopping for her, of course, but her absence was louder than a larger grocery bill.

She started there- at fish stalls and produce shops, but eventually she let herself go out for new clothes. Almost none of her old wardrobe fit properly anymore. She went with Lorraine for an entire day once and bought as many shoes, dresses, shorts and swimsuits as she could carry. Annie even enjoyed herself.

The more stable she acted, the better the other Victors treated her. Even Dorian stopped harassing her when he caught her outside the house. Lorraine became a regular in the house, coming for tea particularly often when Finnick was away.

"It's good for both of you, I can tell," the blonde said with a small smile over her mug one morning.

"What is?"

"A good orgasm now and then."

Annie grimaced. "Oh come on-"

Lorraine smiled and took another cookie from the plate Annie had set out. "I'm just saying. I don't know if it's just sex or something else, but whatever it is, it's worked for you. And that's saying something, because you were quite the mess. Finnick hid it better, but he was too."

"I was under the impression we all were."

"I guess," Lorraine lifted her glass. "Congrats on necking your way out of the mess."

Annie smiled, realizing this was the first girl-talk session she'd had in almost four years. She tapped her mug to Lorraine's.

"What about you? Any prospects?"

Lorraine grimaced. "Never. I don't think I could. Not after Tony's father."

Annie nodded. She didn't know what had happed to the father of Lorraine's child, but Lorraine was still very pretty and she was still called to the Capital once or twice a year. Annie had always just assumed that the man had gone the way of her parents. It seemed that almost every Victor had the same story. She didn't need to hear it anymore.

"I can't imagine."

She and Finnick went on a fishing trip- a real one, not one out of a desire to escape. Mags looked like she wanted to tell them not to go, but she held her tongue while they packed. They drifted for days, hours out from the nearest land. Finnick didn't bother with fishing much, but Annie caught enough for weeks. Instead, he sorted through bags of shells from Mags's collection, tossing out broken or unsatisfactory ones into the water.

"What are you doing?"

"Making something."

"Jewelry?"

He tossed a shard of clamshell at her and laughed when it landed in her hair, getting lost in the curls. "No fair. Wrecked your surprise."

"My surprise?"

"Mhmm."

"Better not be a ring. I'm not up for a wedding just now."

Finnick pulled a face and continued his sorting. "Shut up. I'm being nice."

"You're bad at it."

He smirked and pulled a coil of wire from his pocket. "Maybe. But you're going to wear this. Gunna be exactly your tastes."

"I don't have tastes."

"Yes you do. That's why you went out and got more clothes."

Annie laughed and shook her head. "Nope. I needed new clothes. I've gained too much weight for the old ones."

"Oh yeah, I did notice that."

"Fuck off." He laughed and ducked to avoid the herring she threw at him. "I didn't say it was a bad thing! It was gradual. Just one day I sort of realized how small you were when you first moved in. But you look happier now. Regular meal times and all that. Mags keeps getting on me about waking up at two for sweets, but maybe she's right. It's working for you."

"Nice save, Odair." She twitched her line and rolled up her skirt to catch more sun. "Maybe you're just getting better at cooking."

Finnick grinned and put a delicate hand to his heart. "And I thought you'd never notice."

They came back to find Mags pacing the beach like a lion in a cage.

"Starving," she spat. "Clean. Now."

"Missed you too, Love." Finnick tried to throw an arm around her, but she punched him in the side. "Hey-"

"Haymitch was here."

That sobered them.

"Haymitch," Annie nodded. "What he up to these days?"

Mags ignored her, shoved the pack of cleaning knives into Finnick's chest and turned toward the house. Finnick raised his eyebrows at Annie. She shrugged in response and followed him to the cleaning bench on the front lawn, trying not to jump as the porch door slammed behind Mags.

"Must be something serious."

"Must be," he agreed, laying out the knives and letting the cooler of fish drop on the bench. "I don't think it's too dire though. I think she's just annoyed, mostly."

"Can't blame her," Annie picked up a fish. "Haymitch has that effect."

"It's how he copes, I think. He's one of the ones fighting for the rest of us though. Maybe the hardest. It's hard to tell, sometimes. There's no strict leader in all this, just a lot of people who are done playing the Game."

"Not sure some of us are able to stop playing." Annie hadn't meant anything by it, but she knew how it sounded. She wasn't the one who played a part on a regular basis. Finnick was quiet. Annie was almost afraid to look up.

"Annie..."

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I didn't mean-"

"No- Annie."

She looked up. He didn't look angry or offended. He was staring down at her hands. Annie followed his gaze. Without realizing it, she had started to clean the fish. Her hands were steady- both on the gills of the smelt and on the handle of the knife. Annie stared a moment, trying to decide if what she was feeling was a break or just dumb surprise. With only brief hesitation, she finished the job and dropped the head and spine of the fish into the empty bucket under the bench.

"Yeah? You have a problem, Odair?"

He stared a moment longer. Then he laughed and dumped out the rest of the fish from the cooler in front of her.

"Guess you don't need my help then. Get to finish this all by yourself."

"Sure thing." She grinned and hooked a finger in his necklace to pull him down for a kiss. Grinning against his mouth, Annie placed her palms on either side of his face.

"Gross," he grimaced, cringing away from the fish slime she was smearing on his cheeks. "We were having a nice moment, Cresta."

"'Nice' isn't really Victor style."

"Guess not," he wiped the slime from his face with one hand and transferred it to her chin.

"I said, fucking clean!"

Mags threw a boot at them from the porch. It fell a few yards short, but they got back to the fish, making quicker work of the haul than usual.

In bed that night, he told her that he loved her.

"Since when?"

"Not sure," Finnick dropped his head back against the pillow and grinned up at her, playing with her hair. "It was a process, I think. But I think it started with Ass Pillow."

Annie raised her eyebrows. "Excuse you?"

He laughed, pulling her down next to him. "You don't remember Ass Pillow?"

"I most certainly do not, sir."

"Remember when Haymitch first stayed here after you moved in?"

"And I drank you under the table?"

"Adorably inaccurate, but you know the night. Do you remember the next morning?"

"Sure. Slept on the couch. Felt like I ate a starfish. Breakfast. Weaving with Mags the rest of the day." Annie buried her face in his shoulder and kissed a long thin scar that bisected his collarbone. It hadn't been completely scrubbed away, though it seemed lighter, every time he came back from the Capital. "Nothing to write home about."

"Well, somewhere between you falling asleep and breakfast, Captain sort of fell asleep on your ass."

"Fuck off-" Annie shoved him and sat up, but he snagged and arm around her waist to pull her back down to him.

"It's true. And it's how I came downstairs to find you wiggling in the most pathetic way I've ever seen and singing 'ass pillow, ass pillow, ass pillow' over and over."

Annie let out a hideous scream of laughter and hit him with her pillow.

"I don't believe you! Not for a second."

"Well it's true-" he poked her side. "that's the moment it all started to change."

"Which," she managed to contain herself to very small and very embarrassing giggles and turned to face him, propped up on an elbow. "Actually makes you look more pathetic than me. At least I was hung over. But who falls in love with someone over Ass Pillow?"

"Hey- I'm just telling you how it happened."

It took Annie a few more moments to realize why he was staring down at her throat and looking grave.

"Don't look so dejected," she ran her fingers through his hair and planted a kiss on his temple. "I love you. Not sure I have as good a story as Ass Pillow, but I guess it happened somewhere in the last three years."

"Almost four now."

Almost four. That meant it was time for the Games again. Annie lowered herself down onto the mattress and didn't say anything.

"You think we can do it? I mean- keep doing this? Can we live this way?"

Annie thought about this. Finnick didn't want to- or didn't think they could. This was about whatever Haymitch had come to visit about. He and Mags had talked out on the dock after dinner. They hadn't bothered to come up with an excuse for why Annie shouldn't come with. Finnick had come back with more nervous energy than he knew what to do with. Annie had done her best to distract him, but it had taken hours before he could focus fully on a conversation and his fingers stopped drumming on the nearest surface.

"I don't think I would know what to do doing anything else."

"Things change."

"Not here."

"Not in awhile," he corrected firmly. Annie closed her eyes tight and took his hand, bringing it up to kiss his palm. "You're optimistic."

"I'm Four. And so are you. When we play, we play to win."

"I told you before. I don't play." She didn't want to think or talk about this. This was dangerous- not just because they didn't know how often their house was installed with new bugs. If things went the way Finnick wanted them to, their lives would be in flux. There would be no foreseeable end to the chaos that even a successful rebellion would bring. "I won't lie. It scares me. I don't like it."

"Neither does Mags. But she realizes how necessary it is."

"Or she realizes it's happening whether she likes it or not."

He was quiet for a moment. "I want a future. I've had everything- every part of my life taken from me. I don't want the chance to have-" he hesitated and shook his head. "Something. I want a life, Annie. For me and you. For Mags. We deserve it. Haymitch and Johanna deserve it. Kids who are scared of their twelfth birthday deserve this. It's a long shot, but I think it's worth it."

He sounded like someone raised by a woman who remembered a time before the Games.

"I know. I know we deserve more. But I don't want to lose what we have."

"We won't. I'll make sure we won't."

Annie stayed quiet and waited for him to fall asleep. She traced the lines on his palm and tried to imagine what his hands would feel like if they were allowed to callus.


	15. The 74th Annual Hunger Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.... It's been maybe a little while. Long story short, there was an incident involving my phone where I keep the unfinished portions of this story, a work related injury, and a concerned coworker's foot. I'm more than a little discouraged, but I still want to see this story through to the planned end! Things should be picking up here as we hit the start of canon.

The fight was inevitable. It had been building since Annie moved into the house. Now that she no longer considered dying every day, she could think of her life and the imperfections therein. The frustration and anger built and built for over three years until the 74th Games and Mags and Finnick were chosen to mentor together again.

"We'll talk to the others about checking up on you every few days."

"Like Captain."

It went on for hours. Everything she had even thought for a second- _I'm not an animal I'm not a child I'm not some poor tragic mess that it's your duty to take care of aren't you just a fucking saint to put up with me and my tantrums what did you do to deserve this sad excuse for a woman if I'm such a child you can never fucking touch me again no one asked you to take care of me you could have let me die in the arena you could have let me get sold like the rest you could have let me jump off that cliff I never asked you to love me_ \- was shouted against everything he ever had- _I never not once asked for you to be grateful for anything everything I do is for you how can you still manage to see yourself as wronged when I have given everything I have to keep you safe I need you just as much as you need_ _me we both know that so quit acting like I sit around patronizing you every day because now that I have you I don't think I could keep going alone not anymore so if you're so fucking sick of being taken care of do some caring yourself._

They didn't make up before he and Mags left. Annie waited until it was sure they weren't returning to the house before letting herself throw a completely inappropriate tantrum for someone her age. She screamed and threw things at Captain and cursed in a long, incoherent stream. She knew she needed to apologize, but first she needed to hate him, just a little.

She was only alone for a week before the peacekeepers came. They didn't tell her where they were taking her, just led her to the train station in armed formation with a few clipped orders.

"You don't need to pack."

"Miss Cresta, you will come with us."

She didn't argue, but she walked slowly and deliberately, staring at their shiny black helmets- refusing to be cowed. Her anger from her fight with Finnick carried her through the bold defiance. She was terrified. This was it, she thought. Her "madness" was not enough to keep her safe anymore. They had tried to do their best, but the Capital could not be outwitted. She supposed she should feel lucky that she avoided it all this long.

She sat by the phone in the lounge car anyway, and nearly tore it to pieces when it rang.

"Yes?"

"Annie- You're going to be okay- I promise. I promise you, you're going to be fine, alright? I just-"

It was easier to keep a level head when he was so terrified. The fight was over and Annie was ready to return to the balance they struck. When one slipped under, the other swam.

"Tell me what happened, Finnick."

"It's Mags. She had another stroke. She's stable now, but it was touch and go for awhile. I- I'm sorry Annie-" his voice was shaking. "I fucked up. I'm so sorry-"

"What did you do?"

"I- I said no."

Annie's stomach sank, but her chest ached. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fi-"

" _Finnick_."

"I'll- I'll live, Annie. I just- I want to be sure you're safe. I won't be there when you arrive."

He explained what would happen. She wasn't a punishment, not yet. For now, she was insurance. Her presence was a reminder of why Finnick behaved himself and what would happen if he didn't.

"Officially, you'll be here to mentor. It's... we're a wash this year. I won't lie to you. Girl's trained but she hasn't got the mind to carry her through. Boy's too young."

"You were too young."

"No. He is. I'm sorry. I'm mentoring him. Try not to think about it."

Annie didn't like this. Listening to him talk about the things he had tried so hard to shield her from. It sounded too easy. She knew it wasn't because it was actually easy for him, but because it was so much a part of his life. The part she hadn't really seen in full.

"I won't let them touch you. I promise."

She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see. "I'll see you soon."

"Tonight."

They brought her to the training center and living quarters immediately. Annie made it all the way to the bathroom on the fourth floor before throwing up. Their living quarters were empty. She assumed the tributes were training, and that Finnick was either talking up sponsors or-

She threw up three times before the elevator arrived on the floor.

"Annie-"

He nearly knocked her over with the force of his embrace. Annie buried her face in his neck. He smelled like sweat. Her stomach turned, but there was nothing left for her to heave.

"Are you alright?"

Annie didn't know who spoke first. Her voice was shaking. She knew the floor was monitored- microphones if not cameras. There was little information anyone could glean that the Capital didn't already have, but it felt perverse to even speak to Finnick with them watching.

"We'll be alright," she whispered, kissing the side of his head. "I promise. How is Mags?"

"She's... alive."

Annie's heart ached. That didn't sound good.

"We'll make it through," she promised, because there was nothing she could say about Mags to fix old age. "We will. Come here."

She led him by the hand into the bathroom and sat him down on the edge of the tub. He was quiet while she ran hot water and helped him take off his clothes. She got a clean cloth and started cleaning the thick layer of makeup off his face. When she started at one corner of his eye, he winced.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's fine."

He wasn't looking her in the eye. Annie proceeded more gently. Underneath the layers of concealer and foundation, his face and neck were bruised beyond all recognition. Down his back, the makeup was caked into the crevices of shallow lacerations. These continued over his chest and arms. Annie didn't say anything and neither did he.

When she was finished, she kissed the side of his head and left him to get dressed again. The elevator arrived as she put a cold wash cloth on the back of her neck to calm down.

"You're Cresta," the girl spoke first. She had a clipped, harsh voice and a long horse face. Behind her determined, stony expression, Annie could clearly see darting panic in her eyes.

"Yes. You must be our tributes this year." She had no idea what to say to them. The boy looked twelve. The girl wasn't much older.

"Where's Finnick?"

"He's getting ready. I'm sorry- I've just arrived. We haven't had time to talk about your strategies yet." She ventured to smile at the girl. "Why don't you tell me what Mags had you started on?"

Finnick returned to the dining room as they were going over interviews. Annie knew she looked pale. But she had gotten through speaking of combat strategies without breaking, and she was proud of herself for being able to do this without his help. She offered him a brief smile before turning back to the children. She wasn't sure how familiar they should be with one another.

"We just finished combat and now we're on to the interviews."

They finished bringing her up to speed as they ate dinner. The boy didn't say much. The girl seemed wary and suspicious of Annie and kept looking between her and Finnick as though she was suspecting she got the raw end of the deal. They went to bed early, once the conversation ran dry.

"You did good," he said quietly once they were alone. The Avoxes had cleared the dishes, but they still sat at the table.

Annie ran her finger over the smooth grain of the tabletop. "I feel sorry for her. Doesn't instill much confidence, having your sick mentor replaced with a mad one."

"You're not mad."

"Aren't I?" She smiled so he'd know that this wasn't a break. She was in full control of her thoughts and feelings. But that didn't mean sanity. She knew that, even if he didn't.

"You're not. I know what mad looks like."

"What does it look like then?"

"Like most Two. The siblings from One. Johanna, right after they first sold her. But mostly the ones that don't make it."

Annie reached a hand across the table to take his. He wasn't looking at her. It had looked steady, but now that she held it, she could feel his hand trembling. Annie kissed his palm and pressed it to her cheek.

"Do you have to leave tonight?"

"Yes. But you won't be alone."  
"I'll be fi-"

"No- really." He twisted his hand to grip hers firmly. "I talked to Haymitch. He usually drops out early and doesn't do much sponsor searching. When he's not available, hopefully Jo can drop in. She doesn't- she's not much for the mentoring. Not that she's the best company but-"

Annie smiled and kissed his hand again. "I'm sure I'll get by with either of them."

~

Haymitch came soon after he left. He brought several bottles with him and installed himself on the couch without so much as a greeting. This was fine with Annie. She turned on the television and tried to find something that wasn't Games related. When that failed, she settled on speculation and analysis of each tribute. She hoped that watching would give her information to use in mentoring, but mostly it just made her feel sick. The announcers listed possible attributes of each tribute, based solely on their reapings and arrivals. Annie felt sick watching their tributes.

"Don't think about them." Haymitch was evidently awake and more attentive than she had assumed. "Can't do much for the boy. Girl might have made it a ways, but she's too determined to prove herself brave to actually be it."

Annie might have bickered with him for being so callus on any other day, but today she was just tired.

"Shut up, Haymitch." It was a weak version of what she might have said normally, and he had the grace not to rise to it. "How are yours?"

"Just wait."

They sat in silence through the reaping of Ten, Eleven, and then Twelve. Annie didn't recognize the young girl that was announced and tried to place her in the heard of tributes she had already seen photos of.

"I don't think I've seen-"  
"Wait."

Just as he said it, a hysterical voice began shouting on the recording. It chilled Annie- the voice and the words.

"No- NO! I volunteer! I volunteer!"

The girl struggling and screaming as she fought her way through the crowd didn't look much older than the one actually called. She supposed the girl wasn't much younger than herself when she was reaped, but maybe it was the malnourishment that made her look like such a child.

"Oh," she said.

"That's right."


	16. Mentoring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn- a long time again. Thank you all for your patience, those of you who have stuck around. Still working on this! Just very slowly. I'm hoping the new movie will inspire me to get back in the Hunger Games mode. :)

"You've got the ugliest sleeping face in the world."

Annie blinked away the sleep still clinging to her eyes. Johanna Mason was sitting on the couch opposite her, eying her skeptically. Annie sat up, rubbing her eyes and trying to get her bearings. It had been years since she'd slept anywhere but Finnick's bed in the house. There were cricks in her back from sleeping on the stylish, but not very comfortable couch of the tributes quarters.

"What?"

"Your face. When you sleep." Johanna spoke slowly, as though to a child or an idiot. "It's hideous. They never showed you asleep during your Games. Guess I know why now."

Annie ignored the jab and pulled her sweater more tightly around herself. She must have fallen asleep sometime around three in the morning. She didn't remember Haymitch leaving, or Johanna arriving.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly five. Kiddies should be up soon."

Annie got to her feet and stretched. "Shouldn't you be with your tributes then?"

Johanna shrugged. "Denis should have them taken care of. He's better at this."

Annie nodded. She doubted Johanna was very good with the tributes. Granted, she had only known her on a night of trauma- her breaking point- but from what Finnick had mentioned of her, the woman was hard and harsh, even when in the best mood.

"So are you good to shower and stuff or do I need to stick around and make sure you don't drown yourself or slit your wrists in the bath?"

"I'm fine." She took a knife from the kitchen on her way to the bathroom and waved it over her shoulder to be sure the other woman saw. Johanna cackled.

The woman was still there when she got out of the shower, sitting at the dining table with a box of chocolates and a cup of coffee. She gestured to a steaming pot on the counter when Annie pointed to the cup.

"Made it through another morning, huh?"

"Still here, huh?" Annie poured herself a cup of coffee and sat across from Johanna. "What will the tributes think?"

"Hopefully that I'm fucking you senseless for Career secrets."

Annie smiled, then sobered. "They'll think we're brokering an alliance."

Johanna's expression dropped as well, but she shrugged. "Tell them I gave you the hard sell. Sucked your clit all night, but nothing could make you subject them to a lowly Seven alliance."

Annie tried to smile and raised her cup in Johanna's direction. She didn't want to think about Johanna's tributes. Almost less than she wanted to think of her own. At least the children in Four were prepared for violence. One year, one of the tributes from an outlying district had thrown up at the first sight of blood. A Career had taken her bent neck as an opportunity to cut off her head. Annie tried not to remember the shot of the girl's head falling into the mess she had already made on the ground.

"Sounds good."

The tributes arrived a short time later. The girl was first, looking as though she were bracing herself for a cold wind. She blinked at Johanna, than hastily proceeded to ignore her as she sat at the table and waited for an avox to serve her. The boy followed after, looking pale.

"Are you two ready for your interview day?" Annie winced internally at her own voice. She sounded like a babysitter. They both shrugged and continued eating. Johanna gave her a look that clearly expressed how pathetic she thought Annie was and got to her feet.

"Well, I know when it's time for me to head out," she got up and stretched. "Let me know if you change your mind, Annie."

Her first name sounded strange in Johanna's voice. Like it was too sweet and innocent to touch the inside of her mouth properly. Annie nodded and got to her feet to put her coffee cup away. Johanna slapped her ass on the way past and left. Annie rolled her eyes at the cupboards and let the silence linger in the air after the elevator shot away.

"What did Johanna Mason want?" The boy finally ask as Annie came back to the table.

"An alliance."

"An alliance?" The girl wrinkled her nose. "With Seven?"

"I respectfully declined," Annie was surprised at how calm and cool she sounded. "You two should only worry about the relationships you're forming with One and Two."

They nodded solemnly, as though she must know what she was talking about. Annie felt her stomach twist with guilt, as though she were lying to them. For a moment, she wanted to be like Johanna. To brutally tell them that neither of them had any real chance, according to people who ought to know, and that she was possibly the most useless person to be getting advice from. That she didn't know anything about training or interviews. That she barely remembered her Games most days. That she sometimes needed to sleep for twenty hours just to drum up the energy to bathe. That even if by some miracle they won, they would wish they hadn't.

Instead, she just went over the basics of the kinds of questions they would be asked in the interviews while they waited for Finnick. He arrived after nearly an hour, stepping out of the elevator with the air of someone who had already had a productive morning.

"Sorry I'm late-" He poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a pastry from a tray. "Should we separate for coaching?"

Annie could see his hand shaking.

She and the girl took the living area while Finnick and the boy found another room to practice in.

"So is Odair on drugs?"

Annie blinked. The girl was staring at her impassively. "What makes you say that?"

"He doesn't sleep like a normal person and his hand shakes whenever he comes back here."

"You're observant."

"So is he?"

"If you know where to look, there are pills and powders to keep you from needing sleep," Annie spoke again as though she were some kind of authority on the matter. As though she wasn't about to be sick thinking of why Finnick took those drugs. "Some of the mentors use them to better make use of our prep week and the time we have during the Games. Finnick is better than anyone at talking to sponsors."

The girl was still frowning, but she nodded.

"So-" Annie tried to be brisk as she moved on. "Do you have any questions about rankings and interviews?"

~

Rankings didn't go well. The boy came back in tears and the girl not far off. Later, they watched the ranking announcements in silence. Seven and five.

"Is that all you two are worried about?" Finnick had his best cocky, easy smile pulled up so Annie mirrored his energy and laughed.

"Ratings mean next to nothing," she assured them. "It's just more fluff to fill the time until the real Games."

"Do you know what Mags's score was?" Finnick winked at the boy. "Three. They don't know shit."

Their tributes smiled, comforted by their casual rough language. Annie almost felt sorry, but not quite. The tributes were gone to prep for the interviews in a short while and she and Finnick were left alone for the first time since she arrived. Annie stayed on the couch while he poured them a pair of drinks.

"It gets easier."

Annie's brows snapped together. "Don't. Don't do that. Not to me."

He had the grace to look guilty as he sat back down on the couch with her and passed her her glass.

"I'm sorry."

Annie took the glass and downed the whiskey as quickly as she could. She curled into his side and slid her arms around his waist. They sat like that in silence for so long Annie felt her feet go to sleep under her.

"I can meet them after the interviews. You get some sleep." She was surprised to hear the offer fall from her own lips. "You need it."

"No- I should be there to-"

"To what? To lie and tell them they did a great job? I can do that. I've done fine so far, haven't I?"

"It's not that, I should-"

"You won't feel better," she didn't know she was saying it until the words had left her mouth. "You won't feel better, even if you run yourself into the ground trying to make them feel like they have a chance."

He was quiet for a moment. Annie wondered if he was angry or hurt by her pronouncement. She thought she might be, if he had been the one to say it to her. But he tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her temple.

"I- I feel better. With you."

Annie nodded and craned up to kiss him. He responded almost desperately. His hand slid up under her shirt and splayed across the scar in her side, still raised and white after four years. Annie babbled senseless things. Useless things. Useless lies about how they were getting better, they were going to make it and he was enough, enough, enough.

When she went down to the studio to see the tributes before their interviews, she thought the girl was looking at her bruised lips with suspicion. It was like she could see through Annie's clothes, straight to the handprints on her thighs and red marks on her throat and chest. She looked as though she didn't approve.

"Are you two ready? How are you feeling?"

They did alright in the interviews. Annie walked them back to their floor and wished them goodnight. The living quarters were quiet, but she knocked on Finnick's door. To her surprise, he answered.

"You're still here." It was a stupidly obvious thing to say, but she was surprised. She would have thought that the night before the Games was a busy one for the Victors.

"Johanna- she..." he wasn't looking at her. Annie followed him inside as he turned from the door and waved a hand, still fishing for an explanation. "Took my clients. We- we do that. Sometimes."

Annie took his hand and led him to the bed, sitting with him quietly while he explained. Explained how he and Johanna sometimes took each other's clients when they could tell the other was near a breaking point.

"She's my best friend," he laughed dully. "How sad is that? Johanna Mason."

"It's not sad," Annie gripped his hand and led them to lie down on top of the bedclothes.

"It is," he laughed more honestly this time, pulling her close. "She's mean and selfish and cruel sometimes. Most of the time, to be honest. But she's my friend. Not a very good one. But there you go."

Annie smiled. "She can't be all those things all the time, if you're here and she's..." she let the sentence end there.

"Yeah, well. If Johanna's anything, she's all or nothing."


	17. Catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! I'm going to try my best to get back to posting on this story semi-regularly. I have a couple of chapters that I'll try to post once a week, then we'll go from there. Oddly enough, I'm having more trouble writing about events that we see in canon than things I'm purely making up. I want to keep the story fresh, so it feels weird to rehash stuff we've all read/seen before. But I'm still determined to finish this one! Look for updates on Saturdays!  
> Thank you all for your support. It really does get me excited to write on this again every time I get a little notice that someone commented or gave kudos. :)

The boy was dead at the start. Annie was shaking so hard that Finnick had to lead her out of the mentor's observation room. She sat in the hall with her hands over her ears and her eyes pressed as hard as she could into her knees, trying to erase the carnage she had just seen from the insides of her lids. Finnick had an arm around her and was whispering reassurances into her hair, but it still took her over an hour before she could breath freely again.

"Go back to the living quarters," he murmured when she had stopped crying. "I can handle the rest."

"No- I- I have to-"

"No you don't. I can do this Annie. You go rest now. You can be done."

Annie nodded in agreement, too exhausted to argue. She didn't want him to stay either. She wanted them both home. With Mags. And Captain. And the sea. She didn't want him in the Capital ever again. But the idea of the soft beds in the living quarters sounded like a good one, so it would have to do for now.

Johanna came to spend time with her after a day. They ate and drank and made crass conversation that made light of the dying children being broadcast on television. Annie's girl died after a few more days. Tracker jackers. Annie didn't see it, but Johanna had been awake and watching on the television, and assured her it was hilarious.

It should have made Annie uncomfortable, how easy it was to match Johanna's attitude. But after spending so much time shaking and crying over the thought of blood, it felt good to sneer and laugh about it instead. The kinds of careless cruelties that fell from the younger girl's lips felt cleansing and pure. There was a kind of serenity in refusing to care, even if Annie knew it could only be temporary.

It took her an entire week to realize she had never learned either of Four's tributes' names.

Finnick came back after the girl was dead. But he didn't stay long. After only a day, Haymitch came and spoke quietly with him. Annie wouldn't have even thought twice about it, but Johanna kept glancing over the back of the couch to watch the two men as they spoke quietly near the door.

"Something wron-"

"Sh!" Johanna waved a hand at her, craning her neck as though this might help her hear better. "Shut up, Crazy. Something's going on."

Annie ignored the nickname and obeyed. Haymitch was agitated about something. Agitated, but excited. He was rubbing at the stubble on his jaw and waving his opposite hand with every word. Finnick was frowning, but his arms were crossed and he was drumming his fingers on his elbow.

"What do you think is going on?" Annie whispered, moving closer to Johanna on the couch.

"I dunno." Johanna narrowed her eyes as Haymitch's face actually cracked into a smile. "But I don't like it."

"Will you two stop whisperin over there?" Haymitch called out to them before Annie could agree with Johanna.

"Well, tell us what's happening then." Annie made firm eye contact with Haymitch, since Finnick was refusing to look at her. "Tell us."

"Never you mind, Little Lady."

"Fuck off Haymitch."

"Sure thing, Dollface."

Once he was gone, Johanna gave both Annie and Finnick very critical looks.

"I'm not going to hang around for this. I'll ask the old man, but give me a full report on your guys' fight later."

"We're not going to fight."

Annie raised her eyebrows at him as the elevator doors shut behind Johanna.

"You seem pretty sure of that."

"Annie..."

She could turn it into a fight if she wanted. Part of her did want it. The long suffering way he said her name when she was being moody was enough to set her off. He would be terrified of a fight now, when they were so closely monitored. Part of why she wanted to was to prove that she could lose her temper but still remain discrete. She wasn't out of control every day. Even here.

"I'm sorry," she pulled up a smile. Whatever it was with Haymitch, it must be about the things he came to discuss with Finnick and Mags in Four. And she shouldn't get so much pleasure from imagining him in distress. SHe had been spending far too much time with Johanna. "We'll talk later, alright? I'm kinda tired."

~

The last few hours of the Games were chaos. No one would explain to Annie what was happening, or if this mess was normal. Finnick barely had a moment to spare in the living quarters. He rushed in and out with hardly a word. When she asked what was wrong, he only muttered something about a change in rules and Haymitch needing his help.

"They both won."

Johanna was back after a few hours, looking numb, frozen. Annie blinked at her, curled up on the couch, but with the television off. She couldn't bear to watch alone.

"What?"

"Both Twelve. They're still alive. They're both alive and the Game is over." Her voice was shaking. "There are two winners this year. They let two little bastards live. Two."

"I heard you the first time." Annie could hear her voice sounding faint. "Why?"

"They fucked or kissed or something, I don't know." She waved a hand as she searched through the cupboards of Four's living area for drinks. "They changed the rules. Just made an announcement. Up and switched their minds and told everyone two could now win. Then changed their minds again. Then again." She cursed as she almost dropped a bottle with her shaking hands.

"Shit- Johanna-" Annie took the bottle from her and poured the drinks herself. "You need to calm down."

"What do you think I'm trying to get a damn drink for?"

She snatched the glass from Annie's hand and strode over to the couch to sit down. Annie followed, feeling like none of this could possibly be real. The rules of the Games did not change. They were the rules. They did not change. No one could change them.

"Are you sure?"

"You think I'd believe it if I hadn't seen it?" Johanna sneered and grabbed the remote to turn on the celebration.

Annie felt like a ghost. She watched, as the television showed the recap of the last few moments of the Games. She watched the boy and girl from Twelve barely manage to be the last two standing, then their looks of horror as Claudius Temple informed them that there had been another change, and they would need to finish the Games as per the usual rules. She watched them speak to one another, eyes locked, before the girl pulled a handful of berries from her pocket. They spoke some more, and were about to eat them when another announcement stopped them.

"They changed the audio for that announcement," Johanna explained in a hollow voice. "When he actually said it, he wasn't celebrating, he was terrified."

"With good reason," Annie muttered. "How could they?"

Betrayed. That's what she was feeling. Betrayal. For all that she thought she had understood just how wrong the Capital was, it still hurt to see these young children getting preferential treatment. For a moment, she hated the boy more than anyone else on earth. That he dared look up with innocent surprise to hear that he would be spared, while Drift's head had dropped to the ground, mouth open in his last scream.

"It's- it's just a game to them," she muttered as she sat down before she fainted. "I thought I knew it. I thought I- I understood. But it _really_ is. We're just little pieces on a board. It doesn't matter if they change the rules because it's just a game."

"If I ever meet those two brats, I'm splitting them in half."

~

They were allowed to see Mags after the Games were over. The stroke had been much worse this time. The doctors spoke quietly to Finnick and he spoke quietly to her. Everyone was very quiet. Quiet was never good in the hospital.

"She'll walk," he started, as though it was only downhill from there. "But speech is up in the air. They- they suggested I get to learning Avox signs. But I don't know how her hands are going to be. So..."

So. Subtext: So say goodbye to the woman who saved us both. So we're not getting Mags back, not completely. So, don't get your hopes up.

"Oh."

"Yeah." He held her and pressed a kiss into the top of her head.

They went to see her and Annie held Mags's hand while Finnick tried to talk. He gave up after a short time and just let his face fall into her shoulder.

Annie let her thumb stroke over the back of Mags's hand while her mind wandered. What would they do if they lost Mags? It made her feel like a child. Like they were both children. Children with a sick mother. Mags was stability, strength, normalcy. Of course she was their mother. Annie couldn't believe it had taken so long for her to realize it. If they lost her, they would have to finally grow up.

~

After the festivities of the Games were over, they were sent home- Annie first, then Finnick pushing Mags in a wheelchair a week later. It took a long time for them to adjust. Mags could only manage a few basic tasks- even her hands had gone stiff and clumsy. Not that the extra work was hard for the two of them, but they had fallen into such a routine of chores between three that even realizing what new tasks they needed to take on took weeks. They hardly had the energy to think, after all that time in the Capital and everything that had happened there.

Finnick was distracted. Something had happened. It was too much to be coincidence- the way that it was Haymitch's tributes that had both gotten out. She could no longer say she liked the man- or trusted him. Things seemed to happen around him, and she couldn't forgive him for it.

They didn't talk about it. With all three of them out of the house and with Finnick refusing at the Capital, their house, the yard, even the docks and boats had likely been rebugged. It would be suspicious to use Beetee's sabotage device too soon. So they cleaned the house, kept the garden, took care of Mags, fished, cooked, ate, and went to bed exhausted and silent.

"She's getting better," Annie mumbled into his shoulder one night. She didn't sound remotely convincing.

"She hates it." His voice was weak and cracked. "She hates living like this. And I can't help her. She's done everything for me- and I can't do a thing to save her."

He sounded like such a little boy, it scared her. She hushed him and kissed each collarbone, trying to hold back her own tears in the face of his, as always.

"I have to." He breathed it so soft, she could barely hear over her own breaths. "I have to do it, Annie. I know you're scared. I'm scared. But I have to. I have to."

Annie squeezed her eyes tight. She hated Haymitch. Haymitch and his stupid, dangerous, childish talk of rebellion. He was going to take everything she had away, just because he wanted more. Annie knew better than that. There was nothing more. The world Mags was born into would die with her. She was one of the few left who remembered it. And she would never be able to tell others about it again.


	18. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting my be a bit inconsistent, but I'm going to shoot for Saturdays in the early afternoon! I'm determined to finish this fic. I had a set ending planned from when I started, otherwise I wouldn't have posted in the first place. So glad to be bringing you new chapters now! As always, thank you for your comments and kudos.

That winter, they were expected to greet the Victors from Twelve on their tour. Annie supposed Finnick and Mags did this every year, but she had never really taken much notice. She guessed now that she had proven herself well enough to mentor- if briefly- she was expected to make a one-evening appearance.

The prep team arrived the day of the gathering. Virgilia was still the head stylist for Four. She greeted Annie with caution and reproach. Annie didn't remember what state she had been in the last time they had spoken.

"So- what do you have for my fat ass this time?"

That was all it took.

Virgilia was once again her usual brisk and passionate self. She explained every bit of the new dress's design as she whipped a tape measure around Annie's body. They fell easily into the quick banter they had developed over four years ago. Annie was surprised how easy it was. It felt comfortable and natural, like they had hardly spent a day between now and her interview fitting the night before her Games.

"You'll do," the stylist sat back in an armchair to see her work. They were in Annie's old room, clean and unused for over a year now.

Annie stepped in front of the mirror. She was softer than four years ago. There wasn't much call for exercise in Victor's Village. She likely couldn't win a race against Mags in her chair at this point. But she still had a nice figure, for all Virgilia's criticism of her ass, and the simple navy gown flattered her every dip and curve.

"Not bad," she turned around and craned her neck to see the back. "Not so..."

"Capital-y?"

Annie nodded. It was an expensive, extravagant dress, to be sure. But it complimented her, rather than transformed. She didn't look like a mermaid or a Victor, but like Annie Cresta in a beautiful dress.

"Well, you have a different image than most of the others. We're not going to convince anyone you're just like them when they've already made up their minds."

Annie wondered if Virgilia knew about the other Victors. She didn't act like she did. But it could be a performance. She could never tell anymore when someone was putting on an act. Even if she thought she could tell, she never trusted her own gut. There was nothing sinister, nor pitying in Virgilia's expression though, and for that she was grateful.

"Thanks, Virgilia. You always make me look great."

The stylist only handed Finnick a new shirt and trousers- she had recent enough measurements to fit him properly without any adjustments. He whistled at Annie and she punched his arm. She thought the action was innocent enough, but Virgilia raised her eyebrows at her while he left to change.

"What?"

"You're living together."

"My house burned down."

"And they built a new one two months later."

It was true. Annie had hardly noticed the construction- too wrapped up in her personal affairs at the time that she hadn't even thought of it as meant for her, just for the next Four Victor. No one had even brought up the possibility of her moving out of Mags's house.

"Just seemed easier," she shrugged. "Got into a routine- you know."

Virgilia didn't seem convinced, but didn't pursue the issue either.

Once they were ready, they were escorted to the mayor's mansion, where the new Victors would give their speech and receive their attentions. Annie hardly remembered her own Victory Tour. She hardly knew what the event would entail for the Victors, much less for herself.

They were led out onto a stage where the Victors from Twelve gave their speech. The two of them read from a stack of cards. They acted like they were alone in the room full of cameras. Annie wondered if the crowd had been so unsettled in her tour. They all shifted and muttered.

When the Victors were finished, they were all escorted by the peacekeepers to the mayor's house for dinner and the party. Annie had forgotten who all would be there. Mags was the only Four Victor not in attendance. The District Twelve team was all shipped in together, like a bizarre, eclectic family. She had forgotten that Haymitch would be there.

"Hey there, Little Lady," he embraced her and planted a rough, scratching kiss on her cheek. "Lookin good- how you been?"

"Crazy. Completely mad."

"Wonderful-" he gripped Finnick's arm and muttered something to him quickly.

Annie wanted to call him out- loudly ask him to repeat himself, just to see the look of anger on his face. But she stayed silent and moved down the line of strangers to shake hands. The frilly escort twittered nonstop as she greeted her and shook her hand with unexpected strength. Annie was surprised to find that Finnick greeted the woman with a real smile and laugh, as though she were an old friend. She tried to ignore their chatter and turned to the new Victors.

The girl's face was drawn and hollow. She looked like most of the other tributes from the outlying districts. The boy looked somewhat healthier. Like he at least ate well most of the time.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Cresta."

He had done his homework. She wasn't impressed.

"I was _so_ impressed by your Games," she pulled up her best phony smile, swallowing down the bile that rose up in her throat at the thought that he should be dead, according to the rules. " _Very_ moving."

He kept his calm, amiable smile. "Thank you."

"I'm sure they appreciated it in the Capital as well."

"I wouldn't know. Capital's our last stop."

There was real innocence in what he said and for longer than just a moment, she wanted him dead. How dare he stand here with the Four Victors, completely unaware of what horrors they were subject to. Forget that Annie herself was also spared. At least she hated herself for it. This boy didn't even have the opportunity to hate himself for it. He was completely free. She didn't realize her fists were clenched until a hand smoothed down her wrist and took hers.

"Haven't gone to Seven, have you?" Finnick's voice was the forced light confidence he used in interviews.

Annie tried not to laugh as the boy shook his head.

"Oh you just wait until you meet Johanna," she kept her voice high and her smile too bright. "She is just going to _adore_ you."

She should be terrified of how much she sounded like One. But she didn't care. She needed to hate those silly, innocent Victors for just a few moments longer.

They kept up the persona of proud, all-knowing Victors. It wasn't even that difficult. She could easily look down on these children. They were Victors, sure, but still fresh-faced and innocent. It was nauseating how young they looked in their Capital clothes and makeup. Annie wondered how she must have looked. It felt like decades ago.

After dinner, she pulled Finnick into an empty room down the hall, but still close enough to hear the party. They were quick and fumbling- him holding her against the wall, her legs around his waist. It felt harsh and disrespectful, like the teenage rebellion she never had.

~

They were all home during the Quarter Quell announcement. Mags had the television on while she fumbled with her lures. There had been more public punishments lately. But they were all good at flipping the channel once the official broadcasts began, and Mags liked the quiet drone of silly melodramas and musical performances. Annie was in the kitchen, filling Captain's food dish.

"75th year of this pageant..."

She was barely listening. She was even talking to Captain- the kind of nonsense baby talk people spoke to their pets when they didn't care if anyone was listening.

"You're such a fat bitch, Cap. I shouldn't even let you have any dinner. That's how fat you are."

"...as a reminder..."

She wandered from the kitchen to the living room, something close to curiosity in her at the hush that had fallen over the crowd in the broadcast. The thought of the Quell didn't really illicit any feelings in her. It wasn't much different than the horrors of any other Games. She was too young to remember the 50th.

"...that even the strongest..."

The strongest. Maybe they'd hold tournaments to find the most entertaining candidates. A year full of Careers. Maybe they were tired of pretending they didn't exist and that everyone loved them.

"This year's tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of Victors."

She didn't hear it right away. It was white noise- nothing important. Nothing that could affect her from its safe place contained inside the television's screen. She only paused when she saw that Mags's hands had stopped on her lures.

Existing pool.

Her brain was slow and sluggish to realize what the words meant. The crowd on the television was in an uproar. Her head was swimming, floating above her shoulders like Drift's in the flood.

Existing pool of Victors.

The scream tore its way from her throat gradually. It likely sounded pathetic and ridiculous. Like a child having a tantrum. She was on her knees before she could think- her hands pressed to hear ears, clenched in her hair. She could hear Mags's garbled shouts and thunder on the stairs.

"Annie!"

She didn't know that she was speaking until Finnick was on the floor with her. Her mouth moved against his shoulder as he held her to him, trying to keep her still.

"We're going back!" Her voice was raw with anguish. She couldn't breathe between her words and her sobs. "We're going back, Finnick! They're taking us back!"


	19. The Third Quarter Quell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays and New Year! Thank you for all your support and I hope you're enjoying the new chapters.  
> Quick heads up- next week I will be updating with a one-shot in the series that does not include Annie, so that will be posted separately. A quick reminder that POV shifts will be posted within this larger story unless Annie does not appear, in which case they will be posted as separate one-shots, but linked up to the series. There may be more of them than there has been so far, so I'll try to give you guys warning when that will be happening so you can find them and get your weekly updates!

The days felt like a dream. Even the simplest tasks felt completely foreign. They barely spoke to one another. Annie felt like she should be making use of the time they had left, she just didn't know how. She and Finnick took the trek out to the cliff with Beetee's device, but said little of importance. He told her what little he could of the rebellion so far. There was a plan. Haymitch was throwing it all on the line. And he was too. And many of the others.

Haymitch came to visit and took sailing trips with Mags. Annie didn't say a word to him.

"It will be you," she murmured one night against Finnick's chest. "It will."

"I know." He kissed the top of her head.

"Who do you think the woman will be?"

"People like Miranda."

"But Johanna's the only woman in Seven. They're too much alike.

"True. Maybe Coral."

"They're doing this whole thing to prove how weak we are," she swallowed. "It could-"

"There's a plan in place." He said it firmly- defiant. "No one wants it to be you. Or Lorraine."

She didn't bother to argue.

"And they don't understand how strong you are."

"Nice save, Odair." It fell flat. All their jokes had been falling flat in the past few weeks. They were silent for a few moments. "You're coming out of that arena."

This was dangerous. The house was still likely bugged. But she needed him to know she wasn't afraid. She may not trust Haymitch's plan, but she trusted Finnick- trusted him to find a way out of anything in the world. He had survived too much to leave her now.

"I am. I promise."

The morning of the reaping, they stayed in bed for hours. Annie pressed prayers and promises she couldn't keep into his skin. He bruised her with his lips- over her thighs, wrists, neck and breasts. Annie prayed they would take weeks to fade- the weeks she would be without him. Finally, when it was clear they could not delay it any longer, they dressed in silence. Annie pulled on layer after layer mechanically. They would be on television. She wanted to do all that she could to hide herself from their eyes. Thinking something similar, he wore shapeless trousers and a thick sweater, damning anyone who wanted another glimpse at Finnick Odair's beautiful body.

"Here-"

She picked out one of the homemade necklaces from the box on his dresser. He let her clasp it around his neck without a word, kissing her hands when she was done.

"One token. I'll keep it on."

She nodded. "You better."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Mags was in the kitchen, wearing an earthy old dress that looked handmade. Her gnarled hands twisted her ring absently as they choked down a final meal together. Everything tasted dry and mealy in Annie's mouth. None of them said a word as they finished eating and walked into town.

The stage from the Victory Tour was still set up. Annie tried to remember if this was unusual. It seemed strange now that she paid so little attention to her surroundings. The crowd that gathered was unsettlingly quiet. When the cameras turned on, they projected out sounds of cheering that sounded hollow in the open square.

There was a new escort. Annie didn't remember the name of the old one. He greeted everyone with a beaming smile and paused between his words for the canned cheering and applause. They were lined up, just like for the Victory Tour, except instead of by Victory year, they were separated between men and women. Annie stood next to Mags. No one was on her other side. Just the edge of the stage.

"How about men first this year?"

It was probably better that way. She watched him draw the name from a bowl that was likely filled with copies of the same one. She listened to his name and cried silently, head down. She didn't want to see him smile and wave as though it was the actual audience cheering.

"And now, the ladies."

Mags grumbled next to her. Annie didn't move. Didn't flinch. If anyone was watching in hopes she would breakdown, they'd have to wait a few moments longer. It wasn't much, but it was all she could control.

"Annie Cresta."

One-onethousand. Two-onethousand. Three-onethousand.

She couldn't control the scream. Her hand flew to her mouth though, as if to push the noise back inside. Her knees were weak. She was going to fall. Motion at her side made her jump.

It wasn't supposed to be Mags. It was supposed to be someone who could actually look after herself. Not the one who needed a cane just to get up on the stage. She hated the other women- even Loraine. Someone could look after the woman's son. But Mags would never survive the Arena if she went in. Annie stared at her, the woman's stiff arm raised, other hand pounding her chest in a gnarled fist. No one could mistake what she was doing, even without words.

"Mags... Mags- no-"

In a moment, there was a peacekeeper behind her, hand on her shoulder. She threw it off, every inch of her shaking as Mags and Finnick embraced for the cameras. Annie saw him mutter something into the top of her head. Thanks. Promises. It didn't matter.

She screamed again. The peacekeepers started to shuffled Mags and Finnick to the back of the stage- toward the train station.

"Don't we get to-"

Mags growled and gargled angrily at the peacekeepers as she was pushed along. Finnick wasn't fighting, but he was twisting, trying to make eye contact with Annie as she screamed. As someone yelled to cut the cameras, he finally spoke, one quick shout.

"You're okay! Annie- you're strong!"

What a stupid thing to say.

~

Annie made herself watch. Lorraine brought her food and tidied the house like she was a widow in mourning. Annie stayed on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. They showed each reaping several times. The siblings from One. Their cheering was probably real. As was that for the pair from Two- middle aged but eager to fight again. Beetee and Wiress from Three. The youngest in their district, but that wasn't saying much. Then Four. She looked crazy. Johanna would be entertained.

Seven's own reaping was a mess. Things were thrown up on the stage at the peacekeepers and escort. People were being dragged away offscreen, but obviously not fast enough. Johanna stood to one side of the stage alone. The only female victor in her district. She was staring out into the crowd with a look of unmistakable, fierce pride. Smirk on her lips, chin lifted high- she looked like a queen.

They would punish her for this.

There were three men on the other side. An old man who seemed to barely know where he was, a middle aged skeleton of a human being, and a relatively young man with messy hair and a beard. Of course, the escort picked women first. Johanna slapped his hand away from the bowl and snatched up the scrap of paper herself.

"Lucky me!"

She shrugged off the peacekeepers and left the stage toward the train herself as everyone cheered for real, drowning out the recorded applause.

The man was called next- the youngest of course. The Capital wanted a show, and they got it. Just maybe a little earlier than they had expected. The man started yelling the moment his name was called, and another man with black tattoos all down his arms started to climb on stage.

They cut the camera's before anything else happened, which only confirmed how good of a show it must have been.

Twelve was quieter, but a similar story to her own, just in reverse. Haymitch was called- looking drawn and dehydrated. He was about to step forward when the blond boy volunteered. Annie snorted and got up to use the toilet.

She didn't sleep at night. She knew exhaustion would eventually get the better of her fear, but she didn't bother trying yet. There were peacekeepers outside. Coral tried to pick a fight, but Miranda pulled her back inside. None of the others left their homes- except for Lorraine with her covered dishes of food. Annie didn't say a word to her, each time she came.

Finnick called. She barely remembered what they said to each other, but Annie was fairly certain it was all meaningless. Promises. Reassurances. Futile attempts at making this anything but what it was. The end. Even if the rebellion succeeded, it was the end.

The parade was the way it always was. Annie cringed at the shirtless costume made for Finnick. It was likely punishment for the sweater and for twisting around to see Annie as he was dragged away. Johanna looked about ready to spit- dressed like a mottled and ridiculous tree. Twelve was on fire. At first Annie thought the exhaustion hallucinations had already set in. But Caesar and Claudius referred to her as "the girl on fire!" so it couldn't just be her. She almost felt bad for Katniss's partner, as he as just called "baker's boy."

There were mentor interviews, of course. Dorian and Coral had gone. Not that it mattered for them. Perhaps some of the younger Victors wanted mentors, but it was hardly necessary for Finnick and Mags. They knew the other Victors better than anyone. Mags had lived to see every one of their Games. Finnick saw most of them frequently enough to call them friends.

That was why they were so perfect for the rebellion. She understood now. She had thought she did before, but it was all so much clearer watching them all on the screen. Haymitch needed them to get the others. Barely anyone liked Haymitch. He was hard to like and harder to trust. They were his recruiters. Like mentors talking up sponsors, they were to talk up the rebellion to their friends.

Annie wondered how many of the Victors going into the Quell knew. Three. Haymitch said he already had Three. And "half of eight." Johanna at least. Annie had asked once when it was safe. Probably not the children from Twelve. They would be saved, Haymitch would make sure of that, but they likely didn't know about any larger plan. The girl was a loose cannon and the boy looked like his Games had been the first time in his life something hadn't gone his way. Neither of them would deal with secrets all too well. Not that Annie should be talking. But it felt better to look down on someone younger and even less trustworthy than she was.

She slept for a few hours. More mentor interviews. Annie had no idea how anyone could possibly watch more than a tiny fraction of this. She was going to go mad. Or- madder than she was already, at least. She slept on and off without a care for the days of training. Rankings weren't even interesting. The numbers were meaningless when everyone already knew how lethal each of the tributes could be.

Finally, there were the tribute interviews. One was full of sickly sweet remorse that only one of them could come out alive. Two seemed genuinely excited- boarding on desperate- to get back in the arena. Then Three. Annie had a soft spot for them both. Not that she had met them, but Beetee was responsible for the little bit of privacy she had in life. And she still remembered the way the crowd went quiet between Two and Four's chariot. Wiress stuttered and mumbled, only semi-coherent. Beetee tried to appeal to people's logic, pointing out just how arbitrary the Capital's rules were. Annie felt a twinge of pride to hear him voice some of the same opinions she and Johanna had during the Games the year before. If felt good to hear someone so sane and clever say the same things she felt were true.

Mags only gestured and made faces, but hers was somehow still one of the best interviews. Caesar didn't seem to know how it would go at first, but after she managed to have the audience in stitches after her response to "how are you?" he conducted the interview like any other.

Finnick's Capital persona was slick and charming as ever. When he said something particularly nauseating, he touched the ring of shells around his neck.

"I understand you have a poem for a special someone."

"I do."

He delivered it with his usual Capital smarminess hinting at true feelings. Annie was in stitches by the second line. Something about "yours is the only pillow I ever want under me." she laughed until she cried. Even for everything- the Capital pulling him one way and the rebellion the other- he was still hers. They couldn't change him, or his terrible sense of humor, no matter how hard they tried.

Johanna was as amazing as always. She screamed what every single one of the Victors were thinking. That they'd told them they could go home and live their lives, but none of it was true. Most of the audience would think she meant the Quell. Annie took a few pulls of whiskey in her honor.


	20. The Last Bloodbath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! A week of vacation and I get all screwed up! Be sure to check out "The Last Lonely Night," a companion piece to this longer fic.  
> A quick note: It's now been over a year since I read the Hunger Games books, and my memory is getting a tad hazy as to the differences between book!canon and movie!canon. It's a lot easier to rewatch the movies to refresh myself on plot and dialogue than it is to search for hours through the book to get a line exactly right. So, while I try to lean towards book!canon in this fic, there may be a few shifts at this point.  
> As always, thank you for your love and support!

Annie managed to pass out for a few hours that night. It seemed impossible, but she had blinked in the dim glow of the television and suddenly the sun was half risen. The last thing she remembered was laughing at the boy from Twelve's announcement. Not one of the Victors believed it, it was clear. She wondered vaguely if one of the other Victors in Four had some of the pills or powders like they were given in the Capital. It didn't seem worth it to leave the house when she might miss something.

She watched as the broadcast previewed the arena. That meant the tributes were en route. The cornucopia was an island in the middle of a lake. That was good. Warm, humid climate- fine. They could handle this. The pedestals were in the water. Some of the dryer districts might be doomed from the start.

Her throat tightened as they rose up from underground. She clutched her own elbows and rocked slightly against the couch cushions. Captain was meowing loudly as she crawled through the mess of dirty dishes in search of food. Annie thought about killing her briefly, then decided against it. It would take her too long.

Annie's eyes were going dry from staring. Each of the tributes where whipping around to see who was placed around them. The alliances must be strong, but complicated for people who had known one another for years. Her throat went even tighter when the cameras showed Finnick. He wasn't wearing the necklace. There had to be a reason. She wasn't going to panic.

She barely made it to the kitchen sink before throwing up the pasta Lorraine had brought her the night before. She finished and ran back to the television. She'd missed the last few seconds of the countdown. The tributes were in the water. She searched the screen frantically. At last, they showed Mags, floating lazily from her pedestal to the raised path between her and Eleven. No one seemed to see her as a target yet, so Annie pushed her briefly from her mind. The violence barely registered as real. She didn't care enough about the others to note who lived and who died. Not when she hadn't seen Finnick yet.

They finally showed him on the island- frozen, the likely lone trident in the cornucopia in one hand. The girl from Twelve had the only bow aimed at him, but neither moved. He moved his arm slightly, drawing her attention to the gold bracelet around his wrist.

That meant something. To Katniss and to Annie. It stayed the girl's hands and she lowered her bow, looking confused. It had to be a signal. Likely from Haymitch. And if it was from Haymitch, it was a rebel symbol. Which made Annie breathe easier. There was a reason he left the necklace. A rebel reason. She could understand that. She could handle that.

Annie felt nothing when Finnick's trident embedded itself in the chest of a tribute charging at the Twelve girl.

She slept for perhaps twenty minutes the first night. Plenty happened in the first day and she could feel her muscles aching from being tensed for so long. Johanna and her district partner had broken off with Three. It seemed an unlikely team, but if the rebellion needed Three, there was no one better to fearlessly protect them than Johanna Mason- the girl with nothing to lose. Annie couldn't help but think she had been Haymitch's easiest recruit.

The Twelve boy hit the edge of the arena and was electrocuted. Annie almost felt sorry for her angry thoughts about him, until Finnick gave him breathe again and she could return to mindlessly despising him.

One was pushing it. They had teamed up with Two of course. But the lingering looks and touches between the siblings were bordering on too much. It was part of their appeal, there was no denying it, but if they kept going at this rate, they would lose all sponsors. No one wanted to be seen publically supporting incest.

The Twelve girl was sent something when Annie woke from her short nap. She laughed in relief with all of them as they drank their fill from the device. They could do this. They were fine. Even with the children in tow.

She fell asleep again. She dreamed it was winter- the safest time of year. Captain had kittens, but they were all tail-less and never opened their eyes. Finnick was painting the spare room upstairs and Mags was speaking in full sentences as she cleaned fish of unnatural reds and purples.

_"Watch your corners when entering a new room. Always clear your corners."_

_"No rooms in the arena,"_ Annie reminded her.

_"Good advice anyway. Remember it."_

She woke up to screaming. It took what felt like hours for her to reorient herself.

"Run! Run! The fog is poison!"

Annie was whimpering as she watched them run. The pale mist was barely visible onscreen, but the way Katniss had screamed was enough to grip her heart with fear.

"No..." she sounded as mad as they all said she was. Luckily, only Captain was there to witness her rocking and rambling. "No- keep going- you can-"

She pressed her hands to her mouth as the mist reached Finnick and Mags and he screamed. She'd never heard that sound before. It didn't seem real. Maybe she was still dreaming. An elaborate nightmare made of horror programs and her worst fears.

"Mags- Mags come on!"

Annie's eyes were going dry again. She couldn't breathe. The Twelve boy fell and she barely had a moment to consider how much easier it would be for them without him. But the girl pulled him up and helped him limp along. They only made it a few yards before falling again.

"I can't-" Katniss's shout was desperate enough for Finnick to pause. "I- I can't carry him- please!"

Mags slapped Finnick's shoulder until he set her down and Annie knew. She watched it happen in silence, tears streaming down her face.

Mags kissed him like a child and turned back toward the fog.

"Mags?" He didn't understand- or didn't want to. "Mags, what-"

He screamed while Mags died. Annie watched, numb, as Katniss managed to draw his attention back to their task and they managed to escape the fog.

Annie should be feeling something more. She knew she should be broken and devastated. But she had been preparing herself without realizing it for so long that losing Mags didn't hurt the way it should.

When the cameras moved on to the Career pack, Annie turned down the volume. She fell asleep not long after and dreamed that Mags was yelling at her for forgetting to feed Captain.

~

The sun was directly overhead when she woke. Panic gripped her. She hadn't meant to sleep that long. What had happened while she was out?

Annie screamed at the knock on her door.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Lorraine hurried inside and set breakfast down on the table. "I was just-"

"What happened?" Annie scrambled to her feet. "Mags is gone but- I fell asleep and-"

"It's okay- it's okay-" Lorraine crossed the room and gripped her elbows, steadying her. "There were mutts. The woman from Five is gone, but Finnick is fine."

Annie collapsed back onto the couch, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths.

"Annie... It's alright for you to sleep."

"No- it's not-" she rubbed her eyes hard enough to hurt before turning up the volume on the television. "Shut up and go. Thanks for the food."

"Tony's at my brother's house," she paused. "I could wake you when they're back on."

"I don't trust you," Annie didn't look away from the screen.

"Shut your whiney mouth- I have fed you for a week and a half and haven't ever judged you the way everyone else does. You're acting like a child."

Annie blinked and finally turned to face her.

"You sounds like Mags."

~

They met up with Johanna and Three. Loraine kept her promise and Annie slept for huge chunks of time. It felt wrong, like a betrayal. But Loraine was right. She was being childish. It meant nothing for her to kill herself trying to stay awake for weeks on end. It hadn't helped Mags and it wouldn't help Finnick.

"You're watching. I just don't believe you're watching."

"Too crazy?"

"Shut up with that bullshit, it's not as funny as you think it is."

Annie would never admit it, but she liked this forthright side of Loraine. Not that any of the Victors were soft, but out of all of them, Loraine tried her hardest to be "normal." To be kind, calm and personable. But it seemed Annie had worn through a small part of her calm patience to the part of her that could survive not only her Games, but life with Miranda, Dorian and the others.

"Fine," she picked at the eggs Loraine had brought. "I'd have more trouble not watching, to be honest."

"Not knowing would be worse," Loraine agreed. "It's still hard though. I haven't watched since mine. I mean- I've mentored. But it's different."

They were quiet for a time.

"Thank you," it was hard to say. "I was thinking of asking if you knew where to get the Capital pills to-"

"Stupid."

"Yeah," she agreed. "So- thanks. Now I don't have to be stupid."

"That's good."

"I'm alright for a few hours, if you want to sleep awhile."

"Thanks."

She watched as One continued to toe the line and Two planned the moment they would turn on them. Wiress died a few days later. Annie's chest ached for the way Beetee silently mourned her. She had wanted to meet both of them, for whatever reason. They weren't Career, but they weren't outliers either. They were a breed of Victor she hadn't met and she was curious. She hoped Beetee would make it out.

They cut to the others for a time. There were only the two alliances left. It took her awhile to realize it. The rebellion would likely make their move any moment now. Delaying things only put their whole operation in danger. Unless it had already failed. Unless there was no plan. Unless the plan was the let the entire Games play out.

Something was happening with the others. They cut the cameras to them just as Katniss ran away from the group, shouting. Finnick followed the fastest, and the cameras stayed with the two of them. Katniss finally realized what had frightened her in the first place and shot the bird out of a nearby tree before it could give off any more human screams. Finnick had caught up with her.

Annie froze as another voice began to scream. One she hardly recognized, but knew couldn't be anyone else.

"No-"

" _Finnick!"_


	21. Victor's Village

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch- Sorry about the long hiatus again! Real life sort of happened all over the place, but I'm still working on this! Slowly and steadily! I want you all to know I have no plans of abandoning this fic, and I appreciate every single one of you that finds it again when I post new content.

"Where did they get your voice?" Loraine whispered.

"From the house," Annie felt numb. It must be one of her more recent breakdowns. She had never had to hear herself in this state before. It was raw and pathetic.

"Finnick! Finnick- Please! Please- kill me!"

Tears were streaming down her face as she watched. Katniss caught up with him and shook his shoulder roughly.

"Finnick, stop! It's not her! It's not real! It's just a jabberjay!"

"Well how do you think they got that sound?" His desperation gave way to anger as he rounded on her, spitting back at her naivety. "Jabberjays copy!"

The girl froze and then screamed as they were suddenly mobbed with the crying birds. They ran back towards the beach, but stopped as though hitting a wall before reaching the others. The broadcast dropped the sound so that the announcers could comment.

"Now, we are now seeing some of the mutts from several decades ago. Jabberjays aren't normally this aggressive, but they've clearly been altered for our entertainment."

"Fascinating to see such strong figures facing their fears, isn't it?"

"Fuck off..." Loraine muttered absently. "I haven't seen this in years- this is... this is sick."

Annie ignored her. The broadcast moved to the Career pack. It was just Enobaria, Brutus and Cashmere, but they were still managing to keep up their confident personas. Cashmere looked almost manic. Katniss had put an arrow through Gloss's throat when he killed Wiress.

Back with Finnick and the others, the birds were gone. They all sat on the ground except Johanna, who was pacing a tight perimeter. The pair from Twelve were cradled around each other, murmuring softly. Beetee was fiddling with a spool of wire he had been carrying around for the whole Games. Finnick stared at the same spot on the ground as though he wasn't seeing just grass and dirt. Annie felt her nails bite into her palms.

"It's over, Katniss. The hour is up. They don't have Prim. Prim is fine."

It was nauseating how desperate he sounded. Johanna circled closer, looking annoyed at the boy's murmuring.

"He's right, you know," she sneered down at the pair of them. "The whole country loves your sister. If they hurt her, there'd be riots in the Capital."

Finnick finally looked up, his face drawing tight at her words. Johanna met his look with a smirk.

"How'd you like that, Snow? Huh? How about we set _your_ backyard on fire?"

Fire then. That's what happened to Johanna's family. Snow wasn't all that creative if he used the same weapon on Two Victors' families so close together.

Finnick looked like he wanted to kill her. She was pushing it because she was angry. Angry and alone. The jabberjays had no voices to torment her with. She didn't want to look weak. Wanted to show them all that she wasn't afraid. Because she was. She didn't want to die with no one to cry for her. And she was going to put them all in danger just to prove how brave she was.

"What? I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left that I love."

She left them all and wandered towards the beach. The Twelve boy helped up his district partner and followed with the others.

"What was that about?" Lorraine muttered.

"Johanna hates me," Annie replied, knowing it was true.

"Is she in love with-"

"No. She doesn't love him. But she wishes he loved her. Or anyone. She just wishes someone wanted her to live more than anyone else."

Loraine nodded as if she understood. Maybe she did. Annie never got to ask.

~

The screen went blank. Annie was numb. She couldn't drum up enough brain function to feel anything. They never turned the Games off. It had to be a mistake. Loraine was jabbing at the remote, but every channel was a black screen.

"What-"

"It's the rebellion..." she muttered. It didn't matter who was listening now. Things had gone either very bad or very good. There was no changing things now. "They had some kind of a plan. Guess they put it into action."

"Annie... don't..."

"It doesn't matter. It's happening, whatever it is."

There was a commotion outside. Peacekeepers boots along with pounding, drilling and bangs. Shouting started soon after.

"What's going on out there?" Loraine got up, wrapping her sweater tighter around herself. "What is all that noise-"

Annie jumped as the mug Loraine was holding shattered on the floor.

"Wha-"

Loraine screamed and ran to the door.

"Loraine- what are you-"

"Tony!" She ran outside and Annie followed. "Tony!"

"Loraine- wait-"

Annie's stomach dropped as she stepped out onto the porch.

It felt like a dream. Hazy and too sharp, all at once. The peacekeepers had swarmed Victor's Village in huge numbers. Their lights swept every inch of the yards and several stood on each porch, beating the doors down. Miranda was fighting for of them on her lawn, blood flying from her knife like a silk dancer. They shot her eight times before she went down. The gunshots didn't seem like real violence. Annie had never seen or heard them in real life- only on the television.

In the center of the Village, they had erected a platform. It looked like the reaping stage. Annie didn't understand until she saw the rope.

"Tony! Baby, where are you?"

Annie chased after Loraine, her heart pounding in her throat. A peacekeeper grabbed the older Victor and she struggled against them.

"Loraine- wait!"

They grabbed Annie as well, but held her in one place instead of dragging her toward the platform like the others. She tried to pull away, but more guards surrounded her. She had lost sight of Loraine, but could hear her son screaming.

"Mommy! Mommy what's happening?!"

"Let him go! Get your hands off my son!"

"Loraine!"

"Mommy!"

Annie could just barely see through the wall of peacekeepers to where they were pulling Tony up the steps to the gallows.

~

They knocked her out with their batons after she saw the rest of them hang. She woke on the train in a plain room with no furniture. She was curled up on the floor in her flannel pants and t-shirt from the house. There was a sticky smudge of blood on the floor under her. Annie touched her head and winced. Blood matted her hair together on one side and her skull ached.

She pulled her legs up to her chest in the corner and squeezed her eyes shut, willing all of it to be a nightmare.

They were all dead. Every Victor in Four was either hanged or shot on their way to the gallows. Loraine's brother and son too. The only ones with the misfortune of being caught inside a Victor's house.

Annie didn't cry for them, but she couldn't get the images out of her mind. She rubbed her eyes until they hurt, but she still saw Adrian- stumbling up the steps, not knowing what was going on. She could still see Nautica, walking up the steps of her own volition, looking proud like Johanna at the reaping. The way the Peacekeepers had to stack three different boxes just to get Tony near enough to the noose.

No one came into the room the entire trip to the Capital. It was dark when they arrived. Annie had no idea how much time she had lost while she was unconscious.

It took her a long time to realize that she was only thinking of Finnick as a part of the larger picture of what had happened. She worried for him of course- willed him to be alive with a force that nearly made her sick. But the only real thought she had about him specifically was that, assuming he was still living, he was all she had left in the world. She laughed bitterly at the thought. She and Johanna were in the same boat. Finnick better be alive, if only because the two of them needed someone to care about.

The Peacekeeper behind her nudged her back with their gun. Annie stayed on her feet, but stumbled.

"Watch it," she snapped, if simply because things couldn't get any worse. "Don't fucking touch me."

No one said anything to her as they led her through narrow alleys and into a back door. She didn't realize it was the tribute center until they were in the elevator. When the doors opened again, it was on what looked like a laboratory. They led her into a room that contained only a stretcher.

"Ooo- a bed. Lucky me."

They shut the door behind her and there was silence. She crawled onto the stretcher and curled up into a ball.


	22. Capital Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back to updating this! Thank you all for your patience and resilience in coming back to this after such long hiatuses. I've added another companion one-shot to this series, so look out for that as well.  
> This chapter is a little awkward, as it begins with Annie, then picks up with Johanna's POV. I tried shuffling things around, but no other arrangement really seemed to work without giving you a 500 word chapter thrown in the middle of everything.  
> Extra warning on this chapter for vulgar language and Victors joking about things one should not joke about. Johanna is a gem.

Soon there was noises all around her. Annie didn't know if any were real. She thought she heard Johanna, but she also heard Mags and her mother. But Johanna's voice used more creative insults and threats than Annie's subconscious could probably think of, so she might have been real.

The door opened after a day with no food. They wheeled in a screen and dropped a bowl of mealy potatoes on the floor before leaving. It was almost an hour before the screen clicked on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 70th annual Hunger Games!"

After three days, they took away the stretcher so she was forced to stay on the floor. They started to mix in Finnick's Games as well. Just for variety, she imagined. After a few more days, the Quell. She cried softly all day and night. Her eyes felt irritated and infected. They left food for her, but it mostly made her feel sick. Annie wondered if they were slowly poisoning her. She lost track of time soon enough. Shortly before they started cutting her.

Peacekeepers came and brought the stretcher back. They injected her with something that made her muscles loose and weak. They strapped her to the stretcher and put contacts in her eyes that barely let her blink. The recordings of the Games continued while a woman dressed like a doctor came in with a cart full of scalpels.

The woman started with Annie's feet. She cut and peeled the skin like a fruit. She added chemicals that burned and stung. The Games were kept playing, and Annie's head was strapped in such a way that she couldn't look away.

The next day, she moved on to her shins.

~

It started, as all things did with Johanna, as a selfish desire. In this case, to just get some fucking sleep. She could hear them both crying during the night. Her cell must have been between them both. Peeta screamed while they hurt him, but cried softly at night. Annie whimpered when she was tortured, but sobbed and shouted after the lights went out. Johanna felt her way out of bed and crawled to the side of the cell where Annie's cries seemed to be coming from. Johanna smoothed her hands along the wall, unsure of what exactly was left in her room at night. She found a grate.

"Annie?"

More insufferable wailing. 

"Hey. Nutcase. You there? Or is all that noise just a recording to keep me up all night?"

The noises stopped. 

"Johanna?"

They had only met a few times, but Beetee once said that one did not easily forget the voice of Johanna Mason. He may have used the word 'shrill' and Johanna may have given him a bruise the size of a dinner plate.

"The one and only."

"They said they were going to get you out."

"Yeah, well that's what they said." There was a pause, so she kept going. "Not to feed your damsel in distress complex, but they got that boy of yours out. Guess he was one higher on the priority list than me."

Annie's voice was barely a whisper. She must have found the grate on her side. "Thank you, Johanna. Do you know who else is here?"

"The bread loaf from Twelve, by the sound of things. Not sure if they got anyone else. Don't know if Beetee made it. Bird girl did though. I wonder what they did to the Victors back in the districts."

A pause. "I don't think we can hope for much."

Johanna was about to agree when the sobs started again.

"For fuck's sake. You're a grown ass woman."

"Fuck off."

The sniff that punctuated the phrase was still pathetic, but at least the curse carried a little strength. Johanna searched around for something else to draw out that strength. 

"Honestly, I don't know how you survived this long. Me and Haymitch used to bet on when you were going to off yourself."

"No you didn't."

"It's true." It was partly true. She and Enobaria had tried to get Haymitch in on the bet, but he had told them to finish themselves, as it would do more good. But Finnick had said Haymitch sometimes visited Four, so she hoped it would have more impact than the truth. Not even Johanna liked Enobaria. "We all just sat around hoping you'd die so we could get on with it."

"You're a lying bitch, Johanna Mason."

"Fine, don't believe me. Ask him.  next time you see him. If you think you can last that long."

"Mean cunt."

She sounded downright cheerful. 

Annie was not silent the next night, but she was quieter. Peeta's tears sounded all the more desperate compared to an Annie that was in some kind of control. Johanna repeated the process of the night before on the other side of her room. 

"Hey, Twelve. Come over here. I got something to say to you."

"Who is that?"

"President fucking Snow, now do as you're told."

Muffled shuffling. 

"Johanna? Is it safe for us to talk?"

"What are they going to do? Torture us?"

He let out a watery laugh. "Good point."

"I saw them pick up Finnick and your girl. What did you see?"

"Finnick and Beetee. But neither of them were moving."

Johanna had left that part out when she told Annie.

"Yeah. Don't know if that means anything though."

"I guess. Who were you talking to last night? I heard voices."

"Annie. She's on my other side."

"Annie Cresta?"

"That's the one."

"Do they think she knows something about the arena blowing?"

"She's probably just here to punish Finnick. Might be a good sign he's still kicking. Or at least the Capital thinks he is. " A quiet pause. Peeta had been tapping a tree with the spile when she told Katniss about Finnick and Annie. "Oh sorry, context. Finnick and Annie have been fucking each other's brains out for a couple years now. I guess they think they can keep him in line if they have her."

"Poor girl."

She could hear him settle against the wall and blow his nose on his shirt. 

"So do you cry your way through sex too?"

Another half hearted laughed. "What?"

"Well I kinda get the sense you can't sleep without crying for a couple hours, and I was just wondering if there was a short cut."

"Don't think that would help, Johanna."

"Do I hear a weak ass virgin in the next cell? I think I fucking do. How do you know if you've never tried?"

"Lay off."

"So what is it? Can't get it up? Weird fetish? Maybe you're only into guys. How do they handle that in Twelve? No one gives a shit in Seven, but I think that's because we all just fuck to stay warm and we haven't got the energy to judge when we know what it's like to sleep alone. But I hear other districts are different."

"Maybe I'm just seventeen, Johanna."

"That doesn't mean anything. I fucked the neighbor girl out in the hayloft when I was fifteen. And you're decent on the eyes. Bet you're fucking packing too. I'm good at guessing. I'd say at least eight inches. And thick."

"You're so messed up."

They must have been monitored someway during the night, but not bugged enough to be concerned with what they said to one another. Either that or they hoped the prisoners would let something slip about the rebellion. In any case, they were tortured separately now. In a regular pattern, Johanna listened to Peeta's screams, then was shocked and drowned, then strapped down close to the opposite wall to hear the quiet whines and gasps Annie let out. She wasn't sure if the others were given the same treatment as her, but she doubted it. There were no splashing noises on either side of her. They were cutting Annie. She could hear blades being picked up from a metal table. And there was the unmistakable sound of her Games being repeated as well as moments from the Quell. From the sound of it, Mags's death. Johanna felt sick when she wondered what else they might be doing while they cut her and made her watch. If she was right about them hurting Annie to hurt Finnick, she knew they would want to do to her exactly what he was imagining. Finnick had ten years of experience for his imagination to draw from. 

She wondered why she wasn't being given that kind of special treatment. Maybe it was because she had learned to leave her body while her patrons at the Capital fucked her. If they knew she could do that, they'd likely want to avoid it to keep her present. 

Peeta was harder to guess. It had something to do with a recording of the Games. But beyond that it sounded like the beatings they were all treated to. Maybe they were going soft on him. He didn't know anything, and maybe they were unsure whether or not Katniss was alive. Not knowing what was happening was worse than the noises themselves.

~

She could hear that Annie was falling apart faster and faster. She started whispering to herself during the day, and screaming at Finnick to kill her at night. Johanna tried the same tactics as the first night, but it was clear she would have to try something new.

As Annie's screaming reached a desperate pitch one night, Johanna found her way to the grate between them. She spat into her hand. She took a breath and moaned as loud as she could. 

Annie's scream subsided for just a moment so Johanna gasped and sighed. 

"Johanna?"

She panted.

"Johanna I know you're not really getting yourself off. What are you doing?"

"Oh God..."

She heard Annie move to the grate, so she made as many sickening wet noises with her slimy hand as she could.

"Oh God that sounds disgusting, Johanna. You better not actually be getting off. What is wrong with you?"

Johanna stepped up the pace of her breathing. 

"Ah-ahh Finnick!"

"Stop that!"

"That's okay, " she tried to keep up her labored breathing. "Just finished anyway."

"I don't know what you're trying to do."

"Nothing really. But might be a good point to let you know that I'm definitely going to fuck him once you're dead."

"You're not."

"I am. Like let's face it. You're not going to last much longer, and Finnick's going to be in desperate need of some comfort sex. Like that's your guy's whole thing, right?"

"Stop it."

"Anyway, you have any advice? Like what's he like? You think he'd ram me on all fours? I'm a sucker for that."

"You're being ridiculous. Shut the fuck up. You wouldn't."

"You know I would. He's fucking hung."

"If you're trying to convince me you two have slept together, it won't work."

"Oh no, not that we have. Just that we will. Once you're dead. I don't think I could convince him if you were living. But realistically, we're going to be here awhile and I give you about a week, tops. And that's me being nice. Then I'll get out of here somehow, and Finnick'll be all depressed and vulnerable. So, being the amazing friend I am, I'll be there. Hot and wet."

"You're a cocksucking lunatic."

"Great idea. I'll do that first. Only polite after all. How is he at eating out? Cuz I'm terrible at faking it, so if he's no good I'd rather just avoid it all together."

"I'll fucking gut you."

"You know what? I'm really liking this now. This is going to be so good for him. I mean, not to like, insult my best friend's girl, but seriously? What does he see in you anyway? Like-okay. Best case scenario: rebels win. You live. You and Finnick go back to Four. He spends the rest of his life taking care of your crazy ass. Forget kids. You're pretty much a child yourself. Except I know for a fact he fucks you because he's terrible at keeping secrets. But that's pretty fucked up, don't you think? I'll have to talk to him about that. Cuz you're pathetic. Yeah he'll be sad at first, but he's going to be way happier once you're gone. It'll be good for him to not have you dragging him back to the mega depressing world of your existence."

"I will kill you. The minute I get out of here, your insides will be in your fucking mouth."

"You think you're getting out of here? That's so you. So Annie. Pathetic and peppy all at once."

The next day, there were no whimpers from Annie. Instead, there were curses and threats. Johanna smiled at the creative promises she was making. She didn't know there were so many ways to kill someone with an oyster knife.


	23. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for your feedback! I'm happy to be bringing you more sadness on a semi-regular basis. :)  
> But this chapter is less sad! For all you hoping for a break from the misery.

There was an unholy crash and shouting beyond the normal sounds of the others being tortured. Annie wondered vaguely if she had finally gone mad for real. The door cracked open and something dropped inside. Gas filled the room. They were finally killing her.

She woke up in the hovercarrier. Someone was wrapping her raw wounds in some ointment and gauze.

"She's waking up."

A man around her age stood up awkwardly, clearly trying to find somewhere else to sit in the tiny aircraft. Annie tried to sit up, but a firm hand gripped her shoulder. She refocused on the man wrapping and cleaning the wounds on her feet and legs as best he could with a small field kit. The cream he used stung, but once cleaned, the wounds didn't look as bad as they had when bleeding and covered in puss.

"Just lay back, alright, Honey? Try to stay calm. I know it's hard. We're bringing you to District 13."

"District-"

"Don't talk. Just try to concentrate on breathing, alright? You're in shock right now, but we're going to take care of you."

"Finnick-"

"Finnick Odair is safe in Thirteen. Now will you sit back and let me fix you up?"

He had a deep and commanding voice that made her want to obey. She slipped in and out of consciousness until they landed. They had injected her with morphling, which made her feel loose and unnaturally calm. She should feel panicked and afraid. The knowledge mixed with the drugs and created a bizarre state of mind. The man kept speaking to her in his calm, steady voice. He must know the effect it had and was using it to help her focus. Nothing of what he said stuck in her mind, but she appreciated his efforts.

"I am Commander Boggs. I lead a small group of volunteers on the mission designed to rescue you, Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason, and Enobaria Stone. The mission was a complete success with zero casualties. When we arrive in Thirteen, you will be taken to our medical center for treatment and evaluation. You have no responsibilities except to let us take care of you. There will be time to talk later. I know it's hard, but try to let the medical team do their job. No one is going to hurt you in Thirteen."

They rushed her out of the hovercarrier when it landed. The lights swam before her eyes and all the voices mixed together. She heard Johanna start to yell at the attendants.

"Don't- Don't touch me! I don't want that! I don't-"

"Johanna?"

Annie sat up, batting at the medical attendants trying to stick IVs into her arms. The girl from Twelve and Haymitch had paused at Johanna's bed. Annie barely had time to register how terrible she looked before she saw past her.

"Finnick!"

Her voice was raw and strangled, but cleared as she shouted for him across the clinic. He froze when he saw her. He stared at her like she was a ghost. She saw him whisper her name still looking dazed.

Annie ripped the tape and needles from her arms and scrambled to get off the stretcher. She might have hit one of the nurses.

"Finnick!"

"Annie!"

She was running. The wounds on her feet were likely splitting open again, but she didn't feel anything. It was likely more the drugs than some romantic notion that his presence could relieve all physical pain. They crashed into each other and almost fell. She was dizzy with it. She almost fainted. He smelled like stale sweat and she was sure she smelled much worse.

"You're safe- Annie- you're safe-"

She was choking and crying. No words came into her mind. She was going to stop breathing if he kept holding her like this.

~

The medical attendants finally separated them, only by promising that he could stay by while they finished cleaning and dressing her wounds. They didn't speak another word, but kept their eyes locked on each other.

"I know you've been through so much," the woman checking her IV of morphling pulled up a small smile. "But there is no lasting damage. Just superficial scarring and minor nerve trauma, but you will heal. We'll help you. With the physical and mental recovery."

Annie nodded, too exhausted and drugged to bite back at the optimism. She was gripping Finnick's hand hard enough that she knew it hurt. When the attendants were finished, they wheeled her stretcher into a private room and the blond woman who had spoken before ushered all the staff away to leave the two of them alone.

"What is this place?" It didn't matter, but it seemed the thing to ask.

"District 13. It's where the rebellion has set up. They've got plenty military backing and organization. It's..." he hesitated. "It's different. You'll see. It's only temporary though. I promise you. The rebellion is in full force. I-"

He stopped again, staring down at their hands with a small frown.

"What is it?" When he didn't answer, she reached out to touch his face, running her thumb over his cheekbone. "What's wrong?"

He squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he offered her a shaky smile. "I've been bad, Annie. I don't really know what's going on here. Or anywhere."

She leaned over and kissed his head, trying to swallow back any expression of the worry she was feeling. "It's fine. We'll figure it out."

"We will." He hesitated again. "You saw-"

"Yes. I watched."

"And the rest in-"

"They're gone. Whoever is here is all there is left of the Victors." She moved over to let him crawl onto the narrow stretcher next to her. "Just us."

He settled against her side, arms loose around her waist. "It's a wreck here. Beetee's probably the best, but that's not saying much."

"Johanna saved me." It was true. She had to tell him.

"Fuck- Johanna- I- I didn't- I wasn't even thinking about her."

Annie felt her heart sink over how it must have looked. Finnick running to her. Haymitch and Katniss running to Peeta. And then there was Johanna.

"She saved my life. We were- I was falling apart. And she kept me focused. Kept me angry. Reminded me of what was real."

She told him everything, even the parts she should have kept to herself. By the time she got to the masturbation, they were laughing too hard to breath- shushing each other and trying to keep quiet. They shouldn't be laughing. It wasn't funny. But they needed it.

"She wasn't really, was she?"

"I don't know-" she wiped the tears from her eyes with his shirt. "But the fact that I'm not sure is half of why it's so scary."

"I know-" he dropped his head back against the pillow. "I don't think I want to know the answer."

"Me neither." She sobered as he got his laughter under control. "But- really. She saved me. Probably Peeta too. And- And- I don't think she has anyone else."

He nodded. "I know. But I'm not leaving you right now."

"Wait until I pass out from all the drugs."

"Yes, Ma'am."


	24. Propoganda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at you with some more uncharacteristic happiness! Thank you for all your support and for sticking with this for so long!

They had a life in Thirteen. It was strange, surreal. Like a dream full of soldiers and huge, echoing concrete walls. But they had their own room, and no one seemed to care that they didn't follow the schedules on their arms. And it was only temporary. There was contentment in waiting for something better. It was a new feeling. Somewhat like her certain level of happiness in Victor's Village. It wasn't the same feeling, but it came on just as fast and took hold of her just as completely.

They spent every moment they could together. Both were quickly exhausted in the company of others, so their social circle had hardly grown, even considering the oppressively tight quarters of Thirteen. Half of the people they met still looked at Annie like they were waiting for her to start ripping throats out. It was only funny for the first few days.

"I think Katniss is afraid of me," she said after dinner a few weeks after their arrival.

"She's not afraid. She's... bad at people."

Annie snorted, pulling off her boots and tapping at her bandages. Thirteen's medical tech had all but healed most of the visible damage within the first two weeks, but there were a few deeper wounds that hadn't quite healed.

"Doesn't mean much coming from the man sleeping with a mad woman."

He didn't respond.

"Sorry. I was just joking."

"Annie... Uh- listen- Coin called me in the other day. They have a plan for a... a new propo."

Annie looked up, frowning. He lost track of things easier now. She could tell it was getting better, from one day to the next, but he still lost his thread easily in the middle of a conversation- or even a sentence.

"Finnick? What's wrong?"

He sighed and sat on the bed next to her. He picked up the piece of rope he had been given and turned it over a few times.

"They want... a celebration. Something real. Haymitch wanted it to just be a party celebrating the rescue of you three. But they said it wasn't enough."

"You're stalling hard, Love."

He offered her an apologetic smile and kissed the side of her head. "Sorry. It's just- I don't know how to feel about it."

"What do they want?"

"A wedding."

Annie blinked at the grey wall opposite them.

"Oh."

"Yeah-" he swallowed. "I know it's- it's messed up. They won't force it. It's up to us. But- I mean- I never thought we'd even have the opportunity to- but- damn- it's more fucked up trying to say it out loud."

"This is a terrible proposal."

He laughed and finally looked at her. "But is it working? I know it's not exactly ideal, but- do you... want to?"

"Not ideal?" Annie grinned. "A wedding that spits in the eye of Snow and anyone else who wouldn't want us to be happy?" She pulled him into a kiss and pressed her forehead to his. "Sounds like true Victor style to me."

He laughed again and the sound was more than a little relieved.

"You thought I wouldn't want to," she teased, brushing back his hair. It was getting long and flopping at all sorts of ridiculous angles. "You thought I was going to say no."

"Well, you still haven't really said yes."

She smiled into his lips and crawled across his legs, her hands linked behind his neck. "You never really got around to asking properly."

"Well, now you just seem like you're teasing me," he pulled away from her, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm not sure I want to anymore."

She chased his lips with a grin. "Come on. Ask me. Propose. Make it dramatic like in a romance program. Sweep me off my feet. I might faint."

"No-" he pressed his lips together. "You hurt my delicate feelings."

"Shut up."

"You're so mean to me, I don't know why I put up with you."

"How about if I ask?"

"Maybe. You'd have to make it good."

Annie slipped her hands down the collar of his Thirteen uniform and between the buttons. "Finnick Odair, you make decent breakfast, clean fish when I'm too crazy, and you never bite my thighs too hard. Will you marry me?"

He finally kissed her back between his laughter. "Well, all things considered..."

"Oh here we go."

"Annie Cresta," he helped her with the buttons of her uniform. "You never throw up when you clean the hair out of the drain, you tell terrible jokes that shouldn't make me laugh but they do, and you always make this great noise when-"

Annie's breath hitched as his lips brushed the right spot on her throat.

"Exactly. So- I guess I could do worse."

~

The next few weeks were a mess. Finnick was constantly called into conferences with the leaders of Thirteen about the wedding. He came back to their room irritated and annoyed. After awhile, she was sent up to the surface with the girl from Twelve to look for a dress.

"She's going to be so uncomfortable. She looks at me like a rabid bear."

"I told you, she's just bad at people," Finnick helped her with her stiff boots. "Do you want me to say something to her?"

"Fuck no. Imagine how that would look- sending you to convince her how sane I am." She pulled her hair back into a tie low near her neck. "I'll just have to act excessively normal for a few hours. It'll be exhausting."

"You're up for it."

Katniss was waiting for her with the guard detail by the hovercarrier.

"Hi-" Annie pulled up an attempt at a polite smile. She doubted the other woman remembered her from her Victory tour. "Katniss? I'm Annie."

Katniss gave her a stiff nod and turned around without a word. Annie rolled her eyes and followed.

The ride to Twelve was long and uncomfortably quiet. Annie gave up on the hope that Katniss might speak soon after takeoff.

"Is it hard for you?" She asked after an hour of silence. "To go back there?"

"I'll be fine." She hesitated. "It's- bad. Will you be alright? I'm not good at..." she trailed off, making no attempt to finish the thought.

Annie raised her eyebrows. "At fixing crazy?"

Katniss shrugged. "Yeah."

"Well, the guards have guns in case I go rabid."

Katniss blinked at her, then pulled up an awkward smile. "Sorry. I'm... not good at-"

"People?"

Her smile turned more genuine. "Yeah."

"I- um..." Annie played with her hair. She knew it didn't help her image, but it did help her focus. "I want to thank you. Finnick said you helped each other after the Quell."

"Oh- um- I'm not sure how much I helped. I'm kind of a bad friend."

"He said that too. But I'm not all that sure he's any better."

"Yeah?"

"Well, he's marrying me, and his only friends are you, Haymitch, and Johanna, so either he's just as bad as we are, or he brings it on himself."

They spoke on and off for the rest of the journey. When they arrived, Annie could smell charring. It had been months. It shouldn't still smell.

"Wow," she tried not to gag as they walked through the wreckage.

"Yeah."

Katniss led the way to Victor's Village, her face set. Annie followed in silence. It was hard to imagine what the town might have looked like before the bombs. Victor's Village was intact, but looked as bleak and dismal as the rest of the ruins. Katniss stepped up to the second house and kicked in the door.

"There shouldn't be any wild animals. The smell keeps them away."

The smell had changed. Annie wanted to gag at the sickly sweet floral aroma.

"I want to avoid it too."

"Well, Coin wants you looking _fabulous_ , so pick out a dress."

Annie followed her up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. The closet was filled with layers and layers of ruffles and sparkles.

"Shit."

"They're good."

Annie raised her eyebrows at the younger girl, surprised and a little delighted. Katniss actually looked like she was blushing as she realized how she sounded. Like a normal 17-year-old girl, not a poster-child of a violent rebellion.

"Cinna was my friend." She said it like an apology. Like she damn well better have a good reason for liking dresses and she should have led with it.

Annie sobered, suddenly feeling very tired and a little nauseous. Katniss made her feel a hundred years old. She nodded and looked at the dresses with a fresh eye.

"There's nothing in white- sorry. I wore the only white one for the Quell interview."

"Not a virgin anyway."

Katniss blushed again and Annie forced a laugh she wasn't feeling.

"Sorry. I forget how young you are sometimes. Not that your that much younger than me-" she added hastily. She remembered how much she had hated people saying that before the Games. "But you know. In some ways."

"Some ways," Katniss nodded.

There was a long pause while Annie flicked through the dresses, having trouble seeing any of them. She concentrated more on her breathing than the fabric in front of her, trying to hold on to her focus. She hadn't had a break in weeks, but it was all so new.

"I- uh- Finnick told everyone. About what happed to all of you after your Games."

Katniss blurted it out quickly, but it was still painful to wait for her to finish. Annie knew. Finnick had told her about the propo. About how he had to draw on his Capital acting just to get the words out, but he had done it. He had spilled every name of every client and every rumor he had ever heard. He called it testimony.

"Not all of us," Annie finally responded, her voice quiet. "Not you and Peeta. Not me."

"Not you?"

Annie could hear the surprise in her voice. Maybe forced prostitution had made her madness warranted in Katniss's mind. Maybe the information made Annie lose any sympathy she might have had.

"Finnick made sure I was considered undesirable."

"Is that why-"

"You don't love someone as a reward for things they do for you." It came out sharper than she meant it to. She tried to focus on the dresses. "More like- that was one symptom of the reason I love him."

Katniss snorted and Annie looked over her shoulder. The girl blushed again.

"Sorry- it's just- symptom. Sure romantic, aren't you?"

Annie smiled despite herself. "Romance isn't all that romantic, believe it or not. Help me decide which one of these makes my boobs look best."

Katniss snorted again. "That what Finnick's into?"

"Finnick would swoon if I came at him in a trash bag. The boobs are for me."


	25. Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha- so.... long time no see? I swear I'm still going to finish this story if it's the last thing I do. Life and inspiration for other things just keep happening.

All in all, they managed to cobble together a pretty decent wedding. Annie was glad not to be in white, as she kept wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt and the moisture might have showed up on a lighter color. She'd picked the green dress because it felt like Four. The color, certainly, like it had been dipped in a tide pool in the fall before a storm. But also the way the fabric dropped down from her body and pooled at her feet. It was light and transparent, but draped in a way that did not make her feel exposed. She had to agree with Katniss's judgment of her dead friend's work. Whether he meant to or not, the designer Cinna had somehow created something that felt more like home than any of the parade costumes in 75 years of the Hunger Games.

A team of stylists spent what felt like years on her hair and makeup. Finnick wouldn't let any of them near him, but he let Annie cut his hair the night before. But it likely wouldn't have bothered him to have these people near him. The small group of professionals seemed much more timid than Virgilia and her team had always been. They did not seem entitled to touch her, and told her what they were doing before they did it. Not at all the way the other stylists had tugged and pulled and directed with their grip rather than their words. Annie spent half the time wondering if her old stylist had survived the nation-wide upheaval and where she was now. And if they would ever see each other again. She thought it was probably best to hope she never found out about the woman's whereabouts.

"You are lovely, darling," the woman finishing her lips gave her a shaky sort of smile, like she wasn't sure chatter was allowed in this grim and grey place. "Are you excited?"

"I think I just want it to be over."

Annie stared into the dusty mirror that had been set up in their room. They had done a good job. She had asked for something subdued and they agreed. There was a tint of gold shimmer at the inside of her eyes, but nothing more gaudy than that. Her hair was left loose, allowing the curls to mane out like a lion. Virgilia had always said that if you can't tame something, make it a part of the look. And Annie had to admit, she looked pretty damn good.

She didn't remember any of the ceremony except that her feet hurt and her hair felt crispy to the touch from all the product in it. Her memories only started to form with the first chords of music. She hadn't heard the style before, but a small part of the crowd seemed to know it and they began to clear a space for dancing.

The lighting seemed warmer than it ever had before. Annie wondered how much thought, effort and resources had gone into this change. Apparently, flattering lighting was a very important investment for this propo. They must be doing all they could to make Thirteen look hospitable and inviting.

The cake was magnificent. People said it had been Peeta's handiwork. Annie wasn't sure if that was supposed to make her feel touched or guilty. She hadn't even tried to visit the boy from Twelve in whatever ward he was kept in. She didn't even know if he was allowed visitors. But it felt like she should have tried. They had been through something together. However, by those standards, she should be socializing with Enobaria as well. So really, she couldn't make herself feel that terrible. No one cared where Enobaria was kept.

People were moving and laughing around them in a whirlwind. Annie stood still, and she was sure she looked like a gaping fish.

"Do you want to sit?"

Finnick spoke close to her ear, presumably as a means of not embarrassing her by acknowledging her weakness in front of others. It took Annie a moment to realize she was covering her ears. She laughed and shook her head, lowering them a bit.

"I'm not- it's just loud!" She had to yell over the chatter and music.

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then the smile that broke over his face was the most beautiful she had ever seen. So beautiful she wanted to cry and laugh and cover her face so she wouldn't have to think about it anymore- all at once. But since she couldn't decide on any one reaction, she winked at him instead and kissed him quickly. She drew herself up and jerked her head at the square of open floor people were clearing.

"Come on-" she linked her arm roughly with his and raised her eyebrows at the camera crew knotted to one side of the hall. "Can you imagine? Every one of them watching us laughing?"

He picked her up and spun her onto the clear space in the floor and everyone cheered when she grabbed his chin to kiss him hard.

They each danced with everyone. Annie even managed to pull Johanna out of her chair and spin her around.

"You losin your mind yet, Crazy?"

Annie pulled up a grin and tried to ignore how strongly Johanna smelled of sweat, and how pale and dry her lips looked. She knew Johanna would never appreciate pity, but that didn't stop her from feeling it. The much thinner woman pulled her closer and hummed far too close to her ear for comfort. Annie refused to flinch away.

"Everything's just _fine_ for you two, isn't it? Who would have thought, hm? That the two of _you_ would be the ones with a chance at a _future_."

She said it like the word tasted bitter. Annie said nothing. She tried to breathe through her mouth. She watched Katniss dancing with a small blond girl. She wondered absently if this might be the sister who had apparently started this whole mess. It must be. Annie had never seen Katniss look at anyone with affection, let alone love.

In a moment, she tried to imagine Katniss. Imagine who she had been and who she would be if not for the name that was picked in her year of the Games. She saw a skinny, hard-faced girl pulling weeds in a garden that grew little else. She saw the girl, not much older, marry the strong, plain boy she was always with in the cafeteria. She saw their children, beautiful but dull-eyed and forever hungry.

Annie swallowed and looked away. Johanna sighed after a few more moments and pressed her lips to her ear.

"They need one more familiar face for the front."

Annie felt cold and dizzy, like the ground under her had dropped and she was flying up out of the underground district into the misty clouds. Her mind was stuck in a loop. Screaming out their names. Katniss was too valuable. Peeta was so stuck in his own mind he couldn't be trusted. Haymitch was still drying out and probably couldn't stand long enough to get a uniform on. Annie herself was never an option. And if anyone had to choose, no one would pick Johanna over Finnick to represent anything. Annie would feel sorry for such a dismal observation if she wasn't so busy being selfish.

"But don't worry, Angel-" Johanna pulled back enough to kiss Annie, who suppressed a shudder- both at the smell, and at Johanna's slimy tongue sliding across her clamped lips. "It'll be me. My suicide missions haven't been going according to plan, so I have to give it another shot."

Annie nodded and let Johanna drop her head down onto her shoulder.

"You're always looking after us, aren't you, Mason?"

"Mmm- I'm so maternal. I should get myself knocked up."

Annie squeezed her hand and spun away to dance with Haymitch before she started falling into panicked laughter.

~

Annie woke slowly in the morning. They had barely gotten undressed before falling asleep the night before, and she could feel the makeup still caked to her dry face. She wasn't looking forward to the grimey, crowded communal showers. The bed was little more than a cot, but in the few moments between sleep and waking, it felt soft and warm and like the only place she ever wanted to be. She thought Finnick must still be asleep until he spoke.

"What are we going to go with, name-wise?"

She blinked at the back of his neck and thought about this. She hadn't actually considered this yet, but she supposed they should. She wasn't particularly attached to her name as it stood, but she didn't feel all that motivated to change it either. And she appreciated him saying "we" instead of "you." She was never particularly bothered that some women changed their names after marriage, but she liked that he didn't expect it as the only option.

"I don't know. I hadn't thought of it."

"Not like there's paperwork yet," he yawned and found the arm around his waist to slide his hand down to grip her own. "So no pressure to decide right now. But there might be things like that later."

Annie stayed quiet as she considered this. She hadn't had the courage to consider the possibility of a "later" before. It seemed like a distant place she would never visit. But so had Thirteen. So had a world with Annie Cresta as a Victor.

"I suppose," she kissed his shoulder. "That and other things."

He gripped her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. "Other things."

They'd been less careful lately. Or rather, Thirteen had no stores of protection. They said they didn't. Finnick wasn't convinced. Annie had to agree with his suspicions. There were hardly any residents under the age of twenty in Thirteen. They needed a next generation, and she would not underestimate the leaders' abilities in getting what they needed.

But it didn't matter. Their carelessness was deliberate. They'd barely talked about it past the absolutely necessary, but the agreement was clear. They were done being cautious and planning for safety. They were done thinking of things they wanted as a worse-case-scenario just because they could be taken away. They wanted things, and perhaps more than the result- they wanted to be reckless.

Annie stared at her dress hanging in the corner as they pulled on their uniforms and boots for the day. She wondered if she was expected to keep it. She supposed she was. It had been retailored to fit her exactly. One of the perks of being the face of post-Capital joy.

"What should we call them? If it happens?"

Their discussions of this topic were always vague. They didn't use the words 'family' and 'children.' It seemed too much like something they couldn't take back if they actually said it. Like admitting disappointment that it was not a reality yet.

"Always liked 'Hey You.'"

"It's gender neutral."

"Easy to pronounce too."

Annie smiled against his shoulder, then sobered after a moment.

"We could name them after someone we've los-"

"No." He said it so fast and so firm he kissed her hand again in reassurance. "Sorry. I just- I couldn't do that. Not even if it was Mags."

She didn't say anything because she wasn't quite sure she understood.

"Not someone we've lost, but someone important? That could work."

"Jo's always saved us when it mattered."

Annie found herself shocked, then realized she shouldn't be and felt terrible. She hadn't thought of Johanna and she should have. No one ever thought of Johanna. Except for Finnick. In a moment, Annie understood the way Johanna looked at him. Like she cared about him more than anyone, and couldn't stand it.

"She'd hate us for it."


	26. Leaving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doin pretty good! I'm really trying to make an effort to make some progress in this one, so I hope you're enjoying the new updates!  
> As always- thank you for your support!

Nothing changed in their day to day lives. At least not at first. They went to meals, but otherwise spent most of their time in their room. That's how she started to think of their life and the important things that happened. Bedroom things and cafeteria things.

Annie generally kept quiet at meals. Not that she was anti-social, but her world had consisted of a very small group of people for so long, that now expanding it felt absurdly complicated. Katniss looked at her like a bomb about to go off, Delly spoke too fast, Gale seemed suspicious of anyone who had never eaten tree bark, and Johanna was Johanna. She tried to keep up with the conversation and answer questions when asked, but things seemed to move more smoothly without her. It was over a bland, thick porridge one day that she remembered and let out a shriek. 

Gale tensed while Katniss gripped her spoon like a bowie knife and stared straight ahead. Annie pressed her hands to her mouth in the only apology she could manage in that moment. 

"Annie, Annie, you're safe. It's alright."

Annie shook her head and tried to duck away from Finnick as he muttered reassurance into her hair.

"No - it's not - just - not that."

She sounded like she was having an episode. It was almost funny, in a Victor's humor kind of way. He cupped her cheek so gently and looked into her eyes with such grave concern that Annie couldn't hold back the laughter. She knew their companions must be starting to plan their escapes, but that only made it funnier. 

"Annie - what's -"

"Captain!"

It only took a moment, but once he understood, he joined her in raucous peels off laughter. 

"You're terrible, woman! How could you laugh at something like that?"

"She - I haven't even thought - the porridge -"

Finnick looked down at the thing that triggered her memory and laughed even harder. "She's tough. I'm sure she's - rat's and market stalls at least. Probably happy to have the place to herself."

This wasn't helping them calm down. Katniss was edging away from them slowly. 

"Probably overrun. The whole house."

"Might have little ones."

"Fucking slag."

"Stop!"

It was at lunch that they first saw Peeta again. They were in good spirits, but the entire table went silent as he approached. Finnick gripped her hand while the tense discussion played out. Annie had never seen Katniss look so stricken and vulnerable. For once, she looked her age.

"I not trustworthy yet." The blond boy shrugged at the guards flanking him. "I can't even sit here without your permission."

Everyone was trying to look like they weren't watching Katniss. They would follow her lead, but she seemed frozen.

"Sure he can sit here. We're old friends." Johanna broke the silence and Peeta sat, looking somewhat like a child at the adults table during a holiday. "Peeta and I had adjoining cells in the Capital. We're very familiar with each other's screams."

Annie would have been fine, except their meal had been so benign and cheerful up until a few moments before. She winced as her ears rushed with water flowing through the valley. Finnick put his arm around her and the warmth helped her focus. She tried to ignore Johanna's flippant response to the look he gave her. She could smell Johanna still, but that oddly seemed to help just as much as the grounding assurances Finnick was muttering into her curls. It still took her a moment to realize that Delly was talking to her. But she caught something about baking and icing, so she pulled up a smile at Peeta.

"Thank you, Peeta. It was beautiful."

"My pleasure, Annie."

The tone of his response seemed polite enough, but Annie could feel Finnick tense next to her.

"If we're going to fit in that walk we better go." His voice was low and even and he didn't let go of her as he picked up both of their trays in his free hand. Annie didn't argue, even though neither of them had finished eating. "Good seeing you, Peeta."

She saw it in a moment. It was small and brief. Like sunlight being amplified as it passed through a drop of water. A tiny flick in Peeta's eye made his round, sweet face ugly.

"You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you."

"Oh Peeta, don't make me sorry I restarted your heart."

It was amazing how such a technically pleasant conversation carried so much venom. In any other setting, it would have been a light joke between friends. But there were threats in both their words. Ugly, cold threats they had the experience to back up. Every person they had ever killed was in their eyes when they looked at each other. Annie felt nothing. But like she should be feeling something. Something like fear.

~

Even if their lives had barely changed, she could tell Finnick was getting restless even before he started going to training. They fought about it when he first went. Not very hard. Mostly because she knew he had to go down to the training facility to feel useful. She didn't need that. She didn't know what she needed from this place.

"Are you planning on shipping off to fight?"

She asked when they were tangled up in bed, sweaty and tired and languid. It seemed like the best time for honesty and calm.

"No." She didn't like how long it took for him to say it. "Not planning."

"But you'll go," her voice sounded dull. "If they ask."

"I might consider it." He turned onto his side and kissed her, tilting her chin up with one hand. "But right now I've got more reasons to stay than use going."

She tried to smile and tell herself that was enough. Because it had to be. But every inch of her doubted. She knew him better than anyone she had ever known. Every corner of her mind was filled with the knowledge of his nature. Of the thing he had always said and she knew to be true.

_"I'm better at doing something than sitting by."_

So when they told her that Johanna had failed her test, she was ready. She was sitting down when he told her, and he knelt in front of her, gripping her hands and making all kinds of promises she knew he couldn't keep. She didn't say anything and she could tell it scared him.

"I'll come back." He kept repeating it, kissing her hands over and over. "Say something? Tell me you're alright with this. Tell me you're not and I'll turn them down. I'll stay if it would make a difference, I will."

The words were halfway to her lips before she changed them.

"You need this." Her voice didn't sound like her own and she wondered if it would have if she had asked him to stay.

A shaky smile. "I'm damn lucky, Cresta. And really, it's only propos. It's not real fighting at all. We're just going to be there to look nice for the cameras. And I've gotta make sure the face of the rebellion doesn't run off and do anything stupid."

She forced a smile and let him kiss her. It didn't feel like anything. Not until she kissed back and it suddenly felt like everything. She let him pick her up and carry her across the room to the bed, laying her down and touching her face like her wasn't sure it was real. She was holding back tears and it made her feel far too young and foolish.

He kept promising. Over and over. Everything he had no control over. She gripped him tight to keep herself from shaking. She knew her nails were drawing blood, and it felt right. Like they both deserved it.

~

She watched them all leaving. They looked too proud and too beautiful to be sent to war. Annie felt her stomach contract as she thought how similar they all looked to the Victors who were most often sold. She was sure it was not a pattern lost on Finnick. But he grinned and winked at her as they left, trying so hard to make her smile she did so he wouldn't feel he'd failed.

Annie felt a ringing in her ears after the so-called "Star Squad" left. It was like he'd taken her functionality with him. It seemed harder to focus in a way she hadn't expected. Annie thought she had been more present as a prisoner in the Capital. No one seemed to want to bother her, but they didn't want to leave her alone either. Katniss's mother and sister came to visit her and congratulate her on the wedding. It felt like they were sent by someone to check up on her. Annie doubted it was Katniss.

Haymitch came to see her the first day as well. He looked terrible.

"So, how's married life?"

"Thrilling," she straightened the sheets on her bed as he hovered awkwardly near the door. "You ever tried it?"

"God no. Can you imagine?"

"The poor woman."

They were quiet for a moment. For the life of her, Annie couldn't think of a single thing that was relevant to say with Finnick gone.

"Had a girl once."

Annie didn't want to hear this. She'd heard the same story before.

"What happened?"

"Same as every other Victor who ever cared about anyone."

"Finnick and Johanna came up with a way of not losing anyone else."

"Naw," she looked up and found he didn't just look sick, but far older than his years. "Doesn't work. Look at all the "untouchable" Victors we lost anyway."

At least he wasn't afraid to speak with her frankly. Annie punched the pillow of the bed into a more agreeable shape.

"I cared about every single one of those kids from Twelve. Every one. Everybody thinks the archer girl was the first time I gave a shit but they're wrong. It was every single one."

Annie nodded and made a feeble excuse about how tired she was. He didn't protest the obvious brushoff, but hesitated at the door.

"She was plannin on going with them so she could go out with her boots on."

Annie nodded. She knew this. Johanna didn't exactly keep it a secret that she wanted to die.

"She won't talk to me," Haymitch went on. "Seems to think I'll try to talk her out of it."

Annie didn't point out the irony of him suggesting her of all people to talk anyone out of suicide.

~

Johanna's eyes opened the moment the door of the room she had been assigned slid aside. Annie looked about as bad as Johanna suspected she did.

"Crazy Cresta," she sat up. "Or is it Odair now?"

Annie shrugged, not quite up to the eye contact tonight. "Haven't decided yet. Annie Cresta is a little girl. Annie Odair..."

"Collects cat figures, never had an orgasm,  and talks to her mother's urn?"

Annie shook her head, fiddling with her hair. "Too many vowels..."

Johanna nodded like this made sense. Like she wasn't just thinking that Crazy Cresta was on top form tonight. "So what can I do for you, Crazy?"

Annie stayed where she was. Johanna was probably supposed to tell her to come in. She didn't feel like it. Annie took a breath. 

"I get confused when I wake up alone. Takes hours to get back to sleep on my own."

"I'm not going to fuck you if that's where this is going."      

Annie finally smiled and took another step inside. The door slid shut behind her.

"So that's a no to oral then too?"

Johanna snorted. "There she is. The one I can stand to be around. SHE can come in."

Annie climbed into the side of the bed Johanna was shuffling away from.

"I'm not going to freak out all over you,  I promise. I won't even touch you if you're not okay with that. I just-"

"I get it-" Johanna groused, turning determinedly away from her. "Just don't snore. I'll smother you if you snore."


	27. Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, soon we will be moving on from canon material back to plot points of my own invention. I'm not sure how many chapters there will be after the end of the events of Mockingjay, but we shall see.  
> As always, thank you for your support!

The medical staff shipped out and the soldiers too. Not just another wave, but all of them. Almost all. There were a few medical staff members left for the permanent residents of the medical ward and in case of any new emergencies. Many of them seemed drawn and anxious at being left behind. Like they were waiting for someone to ask them why they weren't risking life and limb with everyone else. But with everyone left in the district in the same boat, it just left everyone feeling sick and guilty and giving each other skittish looks.

Annie was spending most of her time in the medical ward. It was the one place where the stillness and quiet felt deliberate and natural instead of ominous. Even when something went wrong, the doctors and nurses continued on with their day as if a stopped heart or leaking lung was hardly worthy of note.

"Mrs. Everdeen?"

Annie looked up from the nail she'd been picking at, so used to only one person being associated with that name that it took her a moment to realize that Katniss hadn't, in fact, returned. She vaguely remembered hearing that the face of the rebellion had a mother. There was a sister too. That much she remembered from the reaping that seemed so long ago.

"What do you need?"

Annie watched the wispy woman help one of the doctors lift an old man from his wheelchair to his bed. She didn't look much like her daughter. Katniss was thin, but hard looking. Like her wiry limbs were braided from steal wire. In comparison, her mother looked like a stiff wind would knock her down and break her. She wondered if Mrs. Everdeen knew that she was likely the only surviving parent of a Victor. It was a position with a high mortality rate and little reward.

It took Annie a long time to realize she hadn't thought about her own parents in months. She knew she should feel guilty, but couldn't force herself to. She took a moment to wonder if her father was still alive before pushing them both into their spot in the back of her mind.

Thirteen was almost empty. It made Annie feel like a ghost. Like the few remaining residents couldn't see her- or _shouldn't_ see her.

Time seemed to move wrong without the usual crowd of Thirteen life. The only people left that she really knew were Haymitch and Johanna.

She remembered what Finnick said about the latter being a friend, but not a very good one. It seemed somewhere between side-splittingly funny and achingly sad now that she knew how true it was. Visits to the wing of the hospital where Johanna stayed ended either in laughter or tears, but always with a sick sense of guilt in the pit of Annie's stomach. She didn't know why Johanna made her feel so guilty whether she went to see her or not. It was like some kind of Karmic curse. The more time she spent with the woman from Seven, the less she wanted to. And the less she wanted to see her, the more guilty she felt for leaving Johanna with her own dark mind. Maybe it was Annie's punishment for being so difficult to be around herself.

Haymitch was slightly easier to be around, but only just. He was still drying out, and it made him irritable and short with anyone who dared speak to him. It was hard to stretch any conversation with him for longer than a few minutes, and so she inevitably ended up back in the medical ward.

Annie spent days searching for materials to make a new necklace for when she saw Finnick again. He wore the one he had taken into the arena to the Capital and she missed the sound of shells clicking together. The best she could find was a collection of table fixtures and screws. She couldn't bring herself to try to string them together. It was too depressing. But she had no other projects so she continued to collect any trinkets she could get her hands on. It likely didn't help her image to wander around, hands full of bolts and rubbish, but there was no one left who's opinion she really cared about, so she ignored the stares.

But there was no way of filling her time at night. She tried to remember the last time she had spent so much time alone. Annie could think of a single phase in her life when she had been so isolated. It was most of the reason she kept trying to find people to spend time with.

She met with Beetee once or twice, but there was little for them to talk about. Even when he wasn't busy with the weapons department, their methods for coping with the evils of small talk were far too different. Their conversations were nearly as short as the ones she had with Haymitch.

She wouldn't even bother with Enobaria. Annie didn't feel curious about the Victor from Two. Everything she knew about her pointed to someone not worth the effort. Annie never even saw her around the cafeteria, and she half suspected that the officials of Thirteen had just locked her up to prevent any trouble.

Johanna was only getting worse. Every time Annie saw her, she looked dirtier- with more open sores and rashes all over her face and arms. The doctors had to drug her to sleep, but she woke up and fought them off if they tried to wash her. As a result, her addiction to the pain-killing medication they continually pumped through her veins became more and more apparent. She looked rotting and wasted, like a corpse that had been badly preserved but still put on display.

"I was going off it," she said it when Annie came to bring her fruit from the cafeteria. The remaining medical staff would give it to her if she asked, but Johanna would never ask. "So I could go with the birdbrain and die like a fucking berserker. You know? Screaming and tearing up anyone who came near me- six bullets in me before I went down for good. That's the only wya I'm going. Either that or I just won't go. And they wouldn't let me have weapons unless I was clean off the drugs and trained. But now I figure there's no point in quitting."

"They'll cut you off eventually." Annie sat on the end of her bed and fiddled with the sheets. "If you don't do it yourself."

"Yeah? So?"

Annie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just thought you like to do things on _your_ terms, not anyone else's."

Johanna stared at her a moment. "Now _that's_ manipulative. _That's_ Victor Annie."

Haymitch was nearly as bad. He wouldn't say it, but he was waiting for the news that Katniss had been killed. Annie started to avoid him. It wasn't that hard.

She started to claim that she was too sick to leave her room so the kitchen staff would bring food to her. It was always a gamble whether or not she would break in the cafeteria without Finnick to ground her, so it wasn't even a complete lie. But mostly she didn't want to talk to Delly or anyone else who would smile at her sympathetically and try their best not to remind her that she was a soldier's wife waiting patiently for mortal news.

She slept a lot. More than she should have for the complete lack of energy she expended in her day. The head doctor she was assigned said this was typical and in-line with her other symptoms. Annie had been avoiding the doctor as long as she could, but it seemed now that most of her patients were off on the battlefield, there was no escape. There was no believable excuse she could give to avoid seeing the bland, serious woman. You couldn't pretend to be too crazy to talk to the person who fixed crazy people.

"You have to take your clothes off and try to seduce her," Johanna told her wisely. "Then they give you a new one."

Annie hadn't tried it yet, but she was starting to consider the option. She didn't like the way the woman seemed able to figure out every single one of her best strategies for keeping people away. And that not one of them seemed to bother her at all.

The morning the first wave of soldiers came back, she felt it in the stale air around her. They hadn't had news in weeks. There was next to no one left in direct contact with the front. And the ones that remained didn't waste their time with updating civilians. That morning, she left her room and wandered into the cafeteria. Delly waved to her from a table in the center of the space, but she pretended not to see. Instead, she caught sight of Haymitch, sipping coffee in one corner. She crossed and sat with him.

They didn't say anything, but she could tell he felt it too. It was like humidity. A fog they were fighting to breathe through. She felt like if she could just step out into a breeze it would clear.

At last, there was a commotion somewhere above them.

"Good news, bad news..." Haymitch's voice was quieter than usual and frighteningly flat. "Over soon, either way."

Annie nodded. "Will you kill me? If it's the peacekeepers?"

Haymitch dropped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her head as she settled into his side. "Of course, Little Lady."

But almost a second later, the overhead speakers crackled to life.

"We are pleased to report-" it sounded like Coin. Annie wondered what she'd been doing for so long without anyone to order around. "That the Capital has fallen."

Annie felt numb as the place erupted. She and Haymitch stayed where they sat, watching the strangers of Thirteen hugging and crying with one another.

"So... that's it," Annie muttered. "That's how a rebellion ends?"

"A few hugs and some cheering," Haymitch agreed. "Guess that's what victory looks like."

She started to laugh and it wasn't long before it turned into sobs. Victory. It was such a familiar but tainted concept. Annie tried to remember a time when it meant something proud and strong instead of hurt and lonely.

She felt weak as Haymitch led her up the stairs to the airdeck. Maybe she should be drinking more water. She'd been feeling weak a lot lately. They were surrounded by a rush of people hoping to greet loved ones, all calling out names so the place was filled with senseless shouting. There was no way to hear just one voice.

"Hey! Crazy!"

There was one voice that managed to cut through the noise. Johanna had a shrill sort of voice that could cut through any rabble.

"Joha-"

"So we seen anyone we like yet?"

"No. Just a bunch of bastards we don't give a damn about."

"Trying too hard is probably a sign you're about to lose it for real this time, Cresta."

They were jostled around by happy families as well as the frantic ones still looking into every tired and sweaty face. Annie couldn't decide which annoyed her more. As always, Johanna voiced her ugliest thoughts so she wouldn't have to admit she shared them.

"Ugg- so many came back." Johanna grimaced at anyone who came to close to her. "Couldn't a couple more have died so we could find people?"

There was still no sign. Annie couldn't decide what she was feeling. Her stomach felt a little queasy, but not enough to be a real reaction to her nerves. She should be feeling a lot more.

When she saw Gale he purposefully looked away from her and in that moment she knew.

Annie stumbled and Haymitch caught her by the elbows. She could hear Johanna snapping at her for doing something so stupid as fainting, but she was now making eye contact with the propo director as she walked towards them.


	28. Homecoming, Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bit of a break, I'm afraid.  
> I should probably warn you guys: I'm starting a new job and I may have to take a hiatus from all fic writing for awhile. Never fear! This does not mean I am abandoning anything. I just need some time to kinda get my feet under me with my new schedule. Speaking of which, my hours are a little weird so I may play around with posting day/times. So, if you're looking for updates on any of my three active stories, your best bet is to bookmark or subscribe!  
> And, as always, thank you for your support!

Lillian Everdeen took the train with her to Four. It felt longer than it should have. The country flew past the windows, but never seemed to end. Annie pretended to be asleep every time the attendants made rounds asking if they were hungry. She could barely handle Lillian talking to her. Not that she tried that often. Her companion mostly just stared off into space, her lips pressed together while silent tears rolled down to her chin and dripped into her lap.

Finally, the express train to Four stopped in the station. She lost Lillian in the crowd as quickly as she could and headed for the cliff.

She wasn't going there to die this time. It just felt like the right place to be at the moment. People stared at her as she made her way through town. Luckily, no one tried to speak to her. Maybe they thought she was a ghost.

Half the trees had been burned down. It didn't look like Four anymore than she imagined the place she went with Katniss to pick out the dress looked like Twelve. It was hard to tell if the forest had been bombed or simply burned.

The cliff and ocean looked exactly how she had left them. If she focused on the water, it was like she was back in the real Four. Not the one with ashes where plants should be. But the one where all that mattered was the sun and the tide.

She stayed until it was dark. The town was still full of people on the walk back. Celebrations. The positive side of this was that everyone was too distracted to get a good look at her as she made her way to Victor's Village.

Just like in Twelve, the village was relatively untouched. There was a pile of ash in the square. The townspeople must have burned down the gallows. None of the houses looked like they had been looted. Annie thought it was more likely superstition and fear than respect.

The porch had recently been washed with rain. Annie walked up the stairs carefully, having slipped and bruised her knees far too many times after a summer storm. The door wasn't locked or even fully closed. The hall was unbearably still and silent but the kitchen looked exactly as it had when the peacekeepers dragged her outside. Except for Captain laid out flat on the hardwood floor.

It was hard to tell how long she had been dead. There were no maggots in her, like the food left in the kitchen, but flies hovered and landed in her fur and still-open eyes.

Annie made it out onto the porch before throwing up. She did a lot, and not just in the mornings the way people always said.

She left Captain and the rest of the mess in the kitchen to deal with in the morning and climbed the stairs. Nothing was touched. Mags's window was still open and the carpet was soaked from the storm. But apart from that, she could pretend none of it had ever happened if she wanted. But she didn't. She needed to remember tonight.

So she made herself go to bed in her old room. The one that had been empty for so long it had a thin layer of dust coating everything. Annie curled up on top of the covers and tried to remember what color the walls were in the light.

~

She spent the next week cleaning, crying and throwing up just about everything she ate. She had no appetite, and didn't have the energy to worry about it. She should. But she wasn't ready to care about anyone but herself. She would, soon. But for now, Annie liked feeling empty.

It was almost better cleaning the kitchen when she was already nauseous. Then, her normal feelings of sickness were welcome and mild in comparison to how she felt as she breathed in the stench of rotted meat and produce.

Knowing the food would take all day, she started with Captain. She buried the body out in Mags's herb garden and marked the spot with a circle of shells so she wouldn't forget and dig into it when she started to use the space again. She dumped the rotted food in the trash can they used for compost. Then she soaked the remaining dishes and containers in vinegar, and when that didn't kill the smell, baked anything that would survive the oven and tossed out the rest. It felt good to see empty space on the shelves.

It was almost a week before the doorbell rang. She was sure she imagined it so she kept scrubbing the bathtub. But the sound continued until she went downstairs and opened the door.

Annie blinked at the agitated look on Johanna's face.

"I went back to Seven, " she wasted no time in explaining. "But I don't- there's no one there. I mean- not anyone for me. I've spent years making sure they hate me. I thought of Enobaria but I hate that bitch. I wanted Haymitch but-" her voice started to sound tighter, her words coming faster and less clear. "I don't- I don't think he's good for me right now. Or Katniss. They're in a bad place. And-and I just-"

Annie took her arm, guiding the taller woman inside.

"It's fine. I understand."

But Johanna's breaths were coming in short gasps. Annie brought her quickly to the kitchen table and sat them down facing one another. When Johanna's nails still bit into her palms, she took her hands in her own.

"I know," she whispered the way Mags used to. "I know, Baby. It's fine. Just us. It's just us now, hmmm, my love?"

A few minutes later when Johanna had caught her breath, Annie let her pretend it hadn't happened. She made tea while Johanna surveyed the kitchen. Annie felt stupidly self-conscious. Johanna hadn't been here in years. No one but Annie had been here since the war ended.     

"You're not a whale yet."

"No, not yet."

"I hope you're not a cute pregnant. I hope you get full on fat. Not just your belly."

"I'd make you give me sponge baths."

Johanna started to unlace her hiking boots. She only had a small knapsack with her. Annie wondered when the last time she ate had been and had started slicing bread and cheese before she considered that question in regards to herself. She doubted her body would allow her to forget that much longer, but who knew.

"Do you puke every morning?"

"Just some. Started at the same time- that's why it took me so long to realize." She didn't have to say the same time as what. "Today I've only cried twice. Not bad for nine am."

"Go team." They tapped their mugs together and ate in silence for awhile. 

"How are you going to do this?" She was still using her light conversation tone, so Annie didn't feel the need to force eye contact. "I mean, how the actual fuck?"

"Really badly, I guess. But Katniss' mother, she moved down town. She's offered to help. I'm just trying to do one thing at a time. I'll live." What an insane thing to say. 

"Good. Because I'm planning on leaving once things get hard."

She wasn't joking and Annie didn't begrudge her in the slightest. 

"Are you going to name it after him?"

Annie shook her head.

"Good. I was hoping I could talk to it, once it stops shitting itself, and I couldn't handle it if you did."

Annie nodded. "Too much pressure for a kid. I'd be thinking of two people every time I said their name. Maybe Mags though, I haven't decided on anything. Except they'll be an Odair. I'll stay Cresta, but one of us should take that one."

Johanna looked more than a little surprised. "I thought for sure you'd take Odair now."

Annie shifted in her seat. "I thought about it. I was planning on it, really. But then I thought, one day, if I'm just Annie Cresta, I might meet someone on the street. A kid, maybe. And they might hear my name and not know about any of it. Annie Cresta didn't matter all that much to the rebellion, just a footnote on the chapter about Peeta being hijacked. But Annie Odair would be a widow. And everyone would know it. I- I guess I want to live outside of everything that happened to us."She swallowed and finally looked up with a weak smile. "I'm not a very good widow, am I?"

Johanna listened to all of this with a hard expression. "Guess not. But I don't think he'd give a rat's ass what kind of widow you'd be. Doesn't help him any. So you should do what's good for you. It's way too many vowels anyway."

~

A week later, Johanna found her curled up in the open doorway, barely able to breathe through her sobs. She didn't try to comfort her or react much at all, except to bring Annie a glass of water and sit against the wall opposite her.

"Sorry," she finally got out after ten minutes. "I heard him at the door and it was so real. It was so real, Johanna and I forgot, just for a split second. But it was enough."

Johanna just stared at her. Annie tried to think of something that would reassure her. She should get up. Her stomach was starting to protrude just enough to make pulling her knees up to her chest uncomfortable.

"I don't do this all the time. I promise. I know what's real. I remember everything that happened. I know he's gone."

Johanna's eyebrows snapped together. "He's not _gone_. He didn't _leave_. He _died_ , Annie. He was torn to shreds. They didn't even have enough parts for you to bury. You need to stop treating yourself like a child. Ever think that's why everyone thinks you're the mad one? The rest of us act like adults, so they leave us alone."

Annie knew she should keep her thoughts to herself, but a fury she had not felt in a long time was boiling over. It felt good to be angry for once. It was more energizing than crippling sadness.

"And the rest of you are so fine, aren't you? I should just suck it up and hate myself like you and Haymitch, then all my problems would be solved. I'm not like you, Jo. I don't care what you think of me. I just care that I get better. And getting better means asking for help, and breaking down sometimes. I cry six times a day. But who showed up on my door? Who can say 'he was torn to shreds' but can't even say Finnick's name? How many times have you tried to end it? Because I only had the one. I just tried to die once and maybe I'm a little sheltered, but I know that's _far_ ahead of the curve."

Johanna hit her and she deserved it. She took her knapsack and Annie didn't try to stop her leaving. Neither of them were very good at the whole friend business.


	29. Peeta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there- spoke too soon on the break. But for real. I'm moving in a few weeks and just started a new job. Things will be sparse.  
> Thank you for your patience!

Beetee came a few days later with considerably less fireworks. He fixed her radio, space heater and icebox, and when she said that there was nothing else broken in the house he made his excuses and returned home.

Annie didn't even jump when the phone rang, even though she could count on her hands how many times she had heard the sound.

"Johanna said she hit a pregnant woman."

"I'm fine, Haymitch. Hungry and horny all the time and the horniness just makes me cry, but otherwise good. How are you?"

"I told her Finnick would have hit her back if he weren't dead and she hit me too."

Annie laughed and it didn't take much of an effort. "You poor thing. Where is she now?"

"Sounded like she was headed for Enobaria's."

Annie bit her lip but tried to keep her tone light. "That's serious."

"I know." There was a long pause and Annie wondered if he had passed out. He sounded drunk, but then again she had never heard him sober.  "Listen, Annie..."

That wasn't good. Haymitch didn't use names. She was "Little Lady" or "Darlin." Never "Annie."

"We weren't-" he started and stopped several times. "When Coin- After they won and Coin asked us to vote... We weren't right. None of us were and she knew it. That's why she didn't wait. She knew we were far gone and separate from the rest of the world. And I thought the girl might have a plan, but I couldn't be sure and I should have been."

"I can't tell if this is an excuse or an apology." She was in no place to be chasing away friends like this, but right now she was comfortable, and more importantly, focused on her grieving, hormonal, and incredibly high horse. "Not sure what good either is supposed to do me."

"It's a promise, Darlin. I'm promising you that if anyone tries to build up a world where you're scared for that babychild growing in you, it won't happen. We won't let it. We're better now. We're better than we were when we voted. You been through so much, Little Lady and it ain't fair if you had to be scared of us too."

Annie swallowed and tried to stay angry. Tried to still hate the four of them as much as she did that day. But she was tired. And hating people who had once made her smile took so much energy. And when Haymitch called her "Little Lady," she felt like she was seventeen, shivering and throwing up backstage before her first interview as a victor. " _Easy there, Little Lady. Just bat them eyes and they'll forget anything you say."_

"Thank you, Haymitch." It took her over a minute and her voice was barely more than a shaky whisper, but he must have heard her.

"It's just us now, isn't it? My two, they don't understand. But they will. It alright if I send them your way when they're ready? Girl may not be much for company, but the boy can cook a storm, and he's good for any work you need done around the place."

"That'd be nice." She was sure he could hear the tears in her voice, but there was a smile too. "Johanna's not one for chores and Beetee could only manage so many manly odd jobs from his chair."

"I figured as much. You take care of yourself. You're going to be the one to keep us all sane."

She was supposed to laugh at that and she did.

~

Peeta showed up a few weeks later, alone. He said Katniss was doing better, but also mentioned the team of people he had enlisted to keep an eye on her while he was away. He hugged Annie when he first arrived and she almost broke down then and there. No one had touched her since she had moved back to Four and it felt like years.

"So what are you craving? He asked after tea and an apple. "And what do you have access to as far as fresh ingredients? Twelve is still hard pressed for meat, but we've been getting fruit in from Eleven."

They spent the whole night baking, after Annie assured him she was capable of standing to mix filling and frosting for more than five minutes.

"Johanna says she hopes I get really fat," she said over her third piece of pie.

He laughed as his strong arms pounded the dough for at least a month's worth of bread.

"Sounds like her. And I'm happy to help you get fat, Miss Annie. Where I come from, there aren't many over 140. It'll be a nice change to see someone get well fed."

The next day, she took him out to the dock nearest the Victor's Village, all but feared by the rest of the town. She set him up with a simple line and reel while she dug clams and checked her shrimp nets. He protested at first, insisting she take the less strenuous job, but she only laughed.

"You're not used to being around pregnant women, are you?"

He grinned and blushed, shaking his head. "No, Ma'am. Youngest of three."

A complex series of emotions crossed his face. He obviously hadn't meant to mention his family. She smiled and splashed water at his dangling legs to bring him back to the hot sun and the fishing rod in his hand.

"Only child. I'm going to be a disaster. I'm thinking of hiring Katniss' mother on permanently to make sure I don't fuck things up too bad."

He laughed at her cursing the way most people did. "You sound like you're handling it just fine- I mean-"

He thought he had misspoke. Subtext: You're less crazy than I expected. She hadn't missed it.  Annie gave him a smile.

"Thanks, Peeta. You seem like you're doing alright too."

He nodded at his bobber instead of her. "Mostly as long as I'm busy, it's fine. I figured Katniss is getting sick of my yard work and baking, then Haymitch suggested I come see you. To help around the house, but also to talk to someone new. Someone I knew, but from after they messed with my brain. You can't lie to me about my life before, so I can't question you. And I don't WANT to question Katniss and Haymitch- it's exhausting. But I can't help it some days and it's hard on all of us."

"And is it helping here with me?"

He smiled and twitched his line. "Yes, I think so. At least for a time, it's nice to sleep better. I don't want to be gone too long, but do you think it would be alright if I stay the week?"

"Of course."

They had a heavy seafood stew and Annie offered him a bottle of wine while she continued to stuff herself with his sweets.

"You'll be doing me a favor," she insisted when he said he wasn't much of a drinker. "It keeps staring at me. I keep imagining it with my mother's voice, scolding me for not using protection."

He laughed and gave in. It didn't take long for him to be sprawled out on the couch, snorting at all of her lamest jokes.

"You're a lightweight, Mr. Mellark, she teased. "Which is a delightful fact that I plan on saving for a rainy day."

"Shh-" he giggled softly. "You can't tell Katniss. She'd never let me hear the end of it."

"That's fine. You can just be my drinking buddy once this one is out and about," she patted her stomach.

"No," he shook his head, and then stopped, as though it had made him too dizzy. "You're going to be busy parenting."

"I can leave them with friends occasionally."

"Good plan." He rolled onto his side to get a better look at her where she was sitting on the floor, stack of cookies in hand. "Did you plan it? You and Finnick?"

She finished chewing slowly to give herself time to decide if she wanted to talk about this. He was an amiable drunk and would likely be perfectly content if she changed the subject without preamble. But she was in a good mood and had only cried twice so far that day, and she was sure she owed at least part of that to his company.

"Sort of. We weren't trying. But we talked about it. We never dreamed that we'd live in a world where there was no possibility of our children being reaped. Then it was more than a possibility. We got _married_ , Peeta. We never thought we'd have that. Dancing, a beautiful dress," she grinned and nudged him. "The most perfect cake I have ever eaten. We didn't even think we'd ever even have a few short vows in front of a judge, and then suddenly we got all that. We were so high on it, anything seemed possible. But, we weren't stupid. We knew something might happen still. But there was a chance and that was enough."

Annie was surprised that she got through it all without her throat closing. But she liked the way he didn't walk on eggshells now that he had a few drinks in him. He surprised her again when he sighed.

"You're so lucky, Annie Cresdair," he changed surnames in the middle, clearly undecided on which to use.

"Am I?"

He nodded. "So sure. So sure what you want. Who you love and in what way. Katniss was so jealous of you two. Said she couldn't imagine what it was like to look at someone and know where you stood with them. Knew exactly how you felt about them and how they felt about you. I'm jealous too I guess."

"I wasn't always sure." She was whispering and didn't care if he heard or not. "I got bad sometimes. I-" her voice broke. No one had known about this but Mags. "I hurt him. So, so bad once. I woke up and didn't know him. I thought he was someone from the Capital. I thought they had sold me the way they did him. Mags had to take care of me for a week. I don't even know where he slept." She was crying, but three in one day still wasn't bad. And the doctor from Thirteen would probably say this was good for her.

Peeta gave her a pained look and reached out to clumsily pat her shoulder.

"It was okay though. You remembered and got him back."

"Only-" she was choking and hiccupping like a child. "Only after he went away to the Capital. For the Games, so he was gone for- for weeks. And the phones are tapped so I couldn't call because when I was like- like that I couldn't trust myself to only say safe things. So he went three weeks wondering if I'd ever know him again. And the Games were always the hardest because he had to mentor, but also they reminded everyone of the Victors so everyone wanted him and-and-"

Peeta slid off the couch and held her while she finished crying.

"I just want all that time back," she whispered into his shoulder. "I didn't know then. If I knew, then maybe I would have held on better. I could have tried harder to be better."

"That's stupid."

She blinked and pulled away. "What?"

"Tried harder? You don't just try harder and fix yourself. That's not how it goes. You're being dumb."

She huffed a watery laugh. "Yeah, maybe."

"It's okay though. I'm dumb sometimes too."

"Thanks, Peeta."

"I'm sorry about the stuff I said to you two when I was hijacked. I was a real dick."

"Yeah, but it's okay. We knew it wasn't you."

"I have to pee now."

"That's good. Drink lots of water before you go to sleep, okay? I'm going to bed."

Peeta stayed the longest and when he finally left, Annie cried over his peach cobbler like when she was fifteen and the first boy whose hand had wandered up her skirt dumped her for a girl with thinner thighs. She cared for Johanna and Haymitch, but she liked Peeta. Likable Victors were a rare commodity. He called when he got back to let her know he made it safely and she rolled her eyes.


	30. Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! I am mostly moved into my adjustment now and FINALLY have internet access again. But I am still very busy, so I don't know how frequent updates will be for awhile yet.  
> Thank you for your patience!

Time went by slowly, but Annie was so surprised that it passed at all, it felt like a miracle. She managed to clean the whole house thoroughly before her movement was too impeded. Aside from Mags's room, which smelled from the molding carpet. She shut it up and made a mental note to ask Peeta to tear it up if he ever visited again. Or pay someone in town to do it. She briefly imagined the scene of her trying to convince someone from the main town to come to Victor's Village for a home improvement project.

Instead, she took anything she needed from the room and stuffed towels in the crack under the door to keep the smell in. There was a collection of books and a few sweaters she wanted. The books she took were less to read, more to help her start looking for names. Annie had no ideas that felt right, and thought just picking ones that sounded nice might be a good option. The books were long and old and some were full of names she hadn't heard before, which felt right, in a way. Her list grew a little every day, which felt productive enough to satisfy her need to keep busy after physical work became more difficult.

_Irene (g)_

_Scipio (b)_

_Kahlen (g)_

_Sirius (b)_

_Sula (g)_

There were none that she loved completely- that she could see herself saying every day for the rest of her life- but it gave her something to do.

Katniss' mother started a weekly routine of coming to check on her and impart all her pregnancy wisdom. She also said she had medicine for Annie that she couldn't take until after the birth.

"Only if you need it. I needed it once and didn't get it and it almost killed my girls. But if you can hold on without it, that's better."

"It's not like what they used in the Capital, is it?" She tried not to think of the powders and pills they had poured into Finnick, just to keep him awake for another client.

"No, not like that I think. But you still need to be careful."

She was thinner than when Annie first met her, and there was a darkness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Annie couldn't even think of a way to broach the subject of Prim.

"Thank you, Lillian. I don't know where I'd be without you. Is there anything-"

But the older woman shook her head. "I need something to focus on. I won't lie to you, part of the reason I came to Four was you."

Annie wasn't sure she liked that. It sounded too much like someone depending on her. Being someone's strong spot was even worse than their weak spot. She'd learned that. "Me?"

Lillian smiled sadly. "I need a fresh start. What could be a better fresh start than new life?"

Annie hugged her and tried not to cry, but failed miserably. Lillian had been the one to hold her when the doctors in Thirteen told her about the baby. This fresh start had come just weeks after her old life had ended and she didn't stop crying for days. Lillian had been there, dead eyed at the loss of her youngest, but solid and warm, forcing her to eat and get out of bed. 

"I don't know if I can do this without him," she whispered after a time. "We were supposed to do this together. How am I supposed to do this on my own?"

"I don't know. But you're not alone. Not like I was. You'll find a way and when it's hard, I'll be there. Your friends will be there."

"He wouldn't have known what to do. He wouldn't have known a thing about parenting. But he would have been such a good father. I'll be a terrible mother. How- how am I supposed to explain to a child why they don't have a father? Or why sometimes Mom screams in her sleep?"

"No one knows. I don't think I told them anything. You could try the truth."

Annie shook her head. "The truth isn't meant for children. It's not meant for anyone decent."

To her surprise, Lillian laughed. A real laugh. Not something small and forced when she knew it would make Annie feel better.

"What?"

"Imagine that," the older woman wiped at her eye, shaking her head. "Getting to lie to your children. Telling them things will be alright and no one hurts people as good as them."

Annie had the mad urge to hit her for the outburst, but forced herself to laugh instead.

~

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

Annie was expecting this reaction. "If you don't come to the naming ceremony, I'm sending Katniss after you."

"Naming ceremony? Fucking hell, Cresta. I swear you Fours have a ceremony for every shit you take."

"Johanna Mason, I'm naming this baby after you so you had better show up to the ceremony."

The other line was quiet for a time. This she did not expect. Johanna was never quiet. 

"Why? Why me?"

"Because you're alive." It was the honest answer, but it sounded like an easy pass.

Johanna laughed, high and loud and wild in a way Annie recognized as the kind of laughter that was about to turn to sobs. Hysterics, Lillian called it. 

"That's not much."

"It's enough."

She didn't know how much she wanted to tell Johanna, or how much Johanna wanted to hear. They were careful not to talk about Finnick. She didn't know if she wanted to share the conversations she had had with him about children. Those were hers. She didn't know if she wanted to tell Johanna that they'd considered her name long before Annie knew about the child. She had saved both their lives more than once. Any child of theirs owed their existence to Johanna Mason.

"How do you know I'll still be around? What if I kick it? Then the kid'll have a dead name after all."

"You better stay alive then."

"Can I think about this?"

Johanna Mason didn't ask permission. Annie felt a fist squeeze her heart.

"Of course, Johanna. But better make it quick. I'm about ready to pop."

Johanna called back a week later. 

"John or Hannah."

"Good morning?"

"I hate the name Joseph, and anyway, it actually comes from John originally. And if it's a girl, she can't have my full name. She'd be Johanna Odair and I don't like what that sounds like. These are my terms, Crazy Cresta. What do you say?"  
Annie tried her best not to cry. "I guess those don't sound too bad."

"Oh fuck. Are you crying? I'll hang up. Don't you think I won't."

~

She had dreams that she knew were a mix of memories and nonsense, but she couldn't always distinguish which was which.

There was a knife in her hand and she hid it in her long sleeve. The heels on her shoes were taller than she'd ever worn before and she thought briefly of Virgilia's thoughts on what such shoes would do to her ass. People were standing all around her in a huddle. Annie could feel the cold wind on her face and taste sick in her mouth.

She couldn't see what was in front of her, but there was a sudden rush in the crowd and she moved forward. She lost her balance when someone knocked into her and a thin, claw-like hand gripped her bicep to keep her upright.

"It should be you. You know it should."

She woke up with the feeling of tacky blood on her hands lingering for hours.

The doorbell rang again and she wondered if the people in town had finally decided to chase her out.

Enobaria still smiled like a wild cat snarled. She didn't say anything before brushing past Annie into the kitchen. She poured herself a mug of coffee and started to look around in the fridge.

She was brash in the way that Johanna was, but there was a raw, animal grace that came with her movements that no Seven had ever had. Annie watched her as she collected the food she wanted and dumped it on the table before sitting down.

"What? No hug?"

Enobaria gave her that ugly smile. "I thought we never really... clicked?"

Annie sat across from her even though she would rather do anything else in the world. Even if she was still the same Enobaria, Annie couldn't help but think she looked thin and more than a little ashen.

"Where are you keeping yourself these days?" Annie wouldn't have asked if she liked the other woman. She knew Two was in ruins. And no one outside of the district would ever take pity and harbor a Capital sympathizing career.

"Anywhere I want."

Enobaria smiled, but this only sounded like confirmation that she didn't have a friend in the world.

"I would offer you tea or coffee, but I feel sick looking at you, so I may throw up into it."

Enobaria clicked her tongue. "That's not a very grateful attitude, is it?"

Annie snorted. "Grateful? To you? You'll have to jog my memory about that."

"I would think you'd be grateful I went to all the trouble of making sure you know who _that_ belongs to-"

She jabbed her half eaten piece of bread at Annie's stomach. Annie glared at her.

"What do you-"

"Oh, I told them all about you and your nymphomania."

Annie stared and didn't say anything. She was feeling cold and shaky.

"I don't know-"

"Didn't you wonder why they didn't ever _consider_ fucking you as a part of the torture?" She laughed cruelly. "I assured them that no matter how brutal, you would enjoy it."

Annie bit her tongue so hard it bled.

"You're lying."

"Sure. Make me the big scary bad in your story. Go ahead. You're Career too, you know. Don't think anyone's forgotten."

Not cold anymore, Annie's face was burning.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because everyone in the _whole_ wide world goes out of their way to protect you," the taller woman cooed, her face uglier in a simpering pout than in any other expression. "You're _special_ , Annie Odair."

"Cresta. Now get the fuck out of my house."

She didn't believe Enobaria. There was nothing anyone could say that the woman wasn't just making a flimsy attempt at messing with her mind because she saw Annie as an easy target. But she stilled dreamed that she was locked in a cage with mutts swiping their claws between the bars outside- all while Enobaria stalked back and forth across the open door.


	31. Cressida

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof. I have an excuse? I was.... really busy. You know what, just say I was kidnapped by pirates. Worked for Hamlet.  
> Just a heads up, I think this fic is nearing its ending. I really appreciate you all sticking with me and hope you've enjoyed it!

Finnick had been dead for over a year when the filmmaker came to Four. The woman's hair had grown out over the tattoos on her head. She looked even harder and rougher than she had in Thirteen, but smiled as she made her way up the garden path, cameraman in tow.

"Hello- Annie?"

She nodded rather than answer, setting down the cleaning knife and trout she had been working on.

"I don't know if you remember me, but I shot-"

"My wedding," she finished for her. People didn't know how to talk about things like this with her, even now. It was easier to bring things up herself than to endure their delicate dancing around the subject and careful euphemisms. "Yes.  Cressida? And...?"

She didn't know which brother had survived the mission to the Capital. It was in his eyes, even if she hadn't heard.

"Pollux." Cressida answered for him. The cameraman nodded and signed a "hello." He smiled when Annie repeated the gesture. "Do you have a minute to-"

"Come in," she wiped her hands on a rag and led the way up the porch. "I'll put on some tea."

They were interviewing all the Victors. They hadn't had any luck yet. Haymitch wouldn't talk to anyone but Katniss and Peeta. Katniss had told them to fuck themselves, and Peeta had quietly asked them to come back another time. No one knew where Enobaria was.

"After you, we'll check up with Beatee and Johanna," Cressida explained. Her tone indicated she didn't have much hope for either. "If you'd like to know more about what topics we will be covering before you decide whether-"

"No- it- I will do it."

It took them awhile to set up the cameras. The equipment had been through so much, Cressida explained, that most of the usage features were no longer functional. The display of the headset was broken, so they had to mount their cameras on cobbled-together tripods. Each camera made a unique level of humming and clicking noises, and when all three were recording, they created a distracting symphony.

Cressida promised it was alright if she stumbled or even asked to stop, but Annie’s stomach was still in knots when the filmmaker began her questions.

“Could you begin by introducing yourself?”

“My name is Annie Cresta. I was the winner of the 64th annual Hunger Games for District Four.”

“Can you tell us about your life before your Games?”

She swallowed and took a drink from her tea before answering. She talked about her parents first. It felt like discussing characters in a book. Like she had never actually met them, but knew everything there was to know about their lives. She talked about Victor’s Village next, about how everyone wanted to go there, but no one was brave enough to just knock on the door of one of the homes and introduce themselves. About how they all looked at the Victors with a mix of envy, distrust and fear.

Cressida asked her about how she felt about the Games as a child, the reapings, and when her name was finally chosen. Annie tried her best to focus, but spent most of the conversation behind her hair. It was too much, but she wanted so badly to follow up on her promise. She wanted a testimony. Like Finnick’s propo the night they were rescued from the tribute center. She needed it more than anything else.

“What was your first impression of the mentoring Victors that year?”

Annie couldn’t help herself. She laughed. Cressida and Pollux did not react in the slightest, which only made her face flush hotter.

“I thought- Mags was perfect. I trusted her. And I thought Finnick couldn’t possibly be clever with those looks.”

Cressida finally cracked a smile. Pollux covered his mouth with his hand to suppress a small laugh.

It was easier after that. More like a conversation. Cressida said they didn’t need details of the Games if she didn’t want to give them, but it felt right to leave nothing out. Occasionally, she remembered important things she had missed and had to backtrack.

“I’m sorry I keep doing this,” she twisted at a stray curl near her face. “I’m sure it’s all useless.”

“No,” Cressida stepped to each camera, turning them off one by one. “You’re doing really well. But is it alright if we stop for today? We don’t want you tiring out.”

Annie nodded and got up to clear their tea mugs.

“Do you mind if we take some B-roll?”

When she only blinked at her, Cressida gestured around the kitchen.

“Just follow you around. No sound or anything. You can do dishes or read or whatever you like. If you don’t want us to, we’ll go into town and-“

“No, it’s fine. But I’ll ask you not to follow me to the toilet.”

They smiled, but turned quickly at the sound of the door opening. They were so comfortable in the knowledge that Annie was alone that they were ready for a fight. It was almost funny.

“Shots all administered. What do I get for rescuing Mama from the trauma of hospital visits?”

Johanna froze when she saw the filmmakers at the breakfast table.

“John do alright?” Annie crossed to where the other woman stood in shocked silence and took the squirming child from her arms.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Johanna ignored the question.

“They’re making a film-“

“Oh great-“ Johanna sneered and kicked off her boots. “More entertainment. Just what this world needs.”

Cressida and Pollux said nothing. Annie did not allow Johanna’s outburst to rile her. The best way to diffuse her anger was to refuse to react to it. She rolled her eyes.

“Yes. Just like Cinna’s silly sparkly dresses.”

Johanna glared at her and crossed to the back door, letting it slam behind her. Annie took a breath and shifted John into a better position in her arms.

“Sorry. She’s visiting.” She turned a wry smile on her other guests. “Believe it or not, she’s been getting much better.”

Cressida offered her loose, crooked smile. “We’ll wait to ask if she’d like to participate, then.”

~

The filmmakers stayed for weeks. Some days, they continued their interview with Annie. Others, they followed her around as she took care of John and looked after the house. Some days they went out into town with their cameras. Others, they filmed nothing at all.

They stayed at the house- in Mags’s old room. Annie was careful when she offered them space to sleep. She didn’t want to make assumptions about their relationship. But they gladly and openly chose to stay in one bed, though Annie had never seen them so much as touch hands. No matter what their relationship was, Annie thought she understood. She didn’t wish an empty bed on anyone, these days. She herself couldn’t sleep unless John was tucked up against her.

They were pleasant guests. Annie didn’t mind that they were staying so long, as they spent most of their time attending to their film editing in the bedroom than in her company. She learned to forget about them, even when they were filming her going about her day. Other times, she forgot the cameras so completely, she talked with them as though they were social visitors.

In the interviews, she never knew how to talk about the others. Not just Finnick, though of course him most of all. She didn’t know how to formally identify him as her lover, her husband, John’s father- when speaking of the events of her life as though explaining it to strangers who didn’t already know. Every iteration she could imagine sounded forced and unnecessary.

“Should I talk about him that way?” She asked finally, when she first mentioned the nightmares that woke him and how his fits of terror woke her as well. “Is that…?”

She let the question trail off there. It sounded too prudish to say “appropriate,” too cold to say “relevant.”

“You can say or not say whatever you want.” It was what Cessida said every time she questioned what she was divulging. “On the one hand, telling about it humanizes you. People will identify with the vulnerability and loss. Then again, not talking about it keeps your privacy and keeps strangers from sensationalizing your life. Gives you ownership over the good while sharing the weight of the bad.”

Annie glared at her. She appreciated Cressida’s ability to talk about these things without swaying her, but sometimes she just wanted the director to tell her what to do.

“I didn’t- I’d been living here for over a year- the three of us in one house, I mean- before I- before I knew I loved him.”

It felt stupid to talk about, but she did it anyway. She told them how when one sank, the other swam, the way it was when he was sent to the Capital, the fear of losing Mags. About how “John” was for Johanna and why. That it was only due to her that John existed at all. Annie didn’t say that the other half of the equation was that she always hoped he would give her a reason to keep existing in return.

Cressida didn’t ask what the relationship between Annie and Johanna was, but it hung over every mention of her. Annie knew how it looked. She had a history, it might seem to outsiders. Maybe people thought she couldn’t be alone. Maybe they thought she couldn’t handle John alone. Maybe they thought she needed someone there to make sure she didn’t drown him in the bath. She didn’t know what bothered her more, the idea that she wasn’t capable of raising her son alone, or the idea that Johanna and she might be in love.

And she didn’t stay all the time, anyway. It was more like having a cat. Johanna wandered in and out of Four like she expected Annie to think she didn’t need her. But she was helpful. So maybe like a barn cat that kept the vermin population down.

“I like it when people think we’re fucking,” Johanna was sprawled out on the carpet in the living room. The filmmakers were off shooting B-roll across the district, so she had set up shop with Annie once again, at least for a few days. “Makes me feel very tragic and deep. My best friend’s widow. Poetic, right?”

“Psychotic.”

Johanna shrugged. “Matter of opinion.”

Annie watched her as she stretched out on the carpet. A cat indeed, she was rolling over to catch a better spot of sunlight pouring through the window. She looked better, if there was a better for Johanna. Annie still thought she was too thin, but maybe that was how her body was permanently. The tendons of her throat stood out like tight rigging on a sailboat. Too tight for a human. But just right for Johanna- for a Victor.

There was something pleasant about imagining Johanna as a ship. In a way, Four was right for her. She came from a world of pine and tornados, but she spit brine like she was born in salt water. Annie had been trying to teach her to sail, but she still grew timid and anxious in the water.

Even so, there was color now behind her pale skin and she moved comfortably. Annie had always been sicky fascinated and unnerved by how the Victors all moved. She wondered if she moved the same way.

“Are you going to do the interview with them?”

Johanna didn’t answer right away. Annie kept working on the soup and waited for the explosion.

“No. Why would I?”

Considerably less violent than she expected, but that didn’t always mean the storm had passed.

“What ever reason you like.”

“Why are you doing it?”

Annie had not been expecting the question. She continued chopping the onions for a moment before answering.

“I don’t know. Feels good. Getting it out to someone who didn’t go through the same thing.”

“They’re never going to understand. Not really.”

“It’s not about them.” Annie didn’t know this was how she felt until Johanna had said it. “Not completely.” She threw the onions in the pot. “You know? Fuck them. It’s all about you.”

“Haha. I was being serious.”

“So am I.” She stirred the soup a moment before leaning against the counter, her arms crossed. “People have been controlling us our whole lives- deciding what part of us others are allowed to see. Whether you do the interview or not- forget about people’s reactions.”

Johanna mulled this over for awhile in silence. The pause let the house sit quietly enough that they both heard the crying coming from upstairs. Annie started for the steps, but Johanna rolled onto her feet with a groan.

“Naw- stick with the food. I got Jackie.”

“It’s John.”

“Sure it is, Crazy.”


	32. Parenthood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I really appreciate anyone who has gotten this far in this one. I know I've lost a lot of people with my huge gaps in updates, so I really love each and every one of you that are still here.  
> I do actually believe this long running story will be coming to an end next time. I think I've included all the scenes and concepts I was desperate to write when I started this, so it's time to wind down and let Annie rest.

No one wanted to call him John. Annie blamed Johanna, but the trend was independent of her. Lilian used “Baby,” Cressida “Kiddo,” Haymitch, when he finally came, followed Johanna’s lead with “Jack.” Even the escort from 12 came to see them when she could get away from her new office job under the president and only cooed “Angel…” over and over as she held him. Annie resisted the trend on principal, but eventually found herself using “Johnny” more often than not.

“He’s just not a John.” Lillian shrugged while she helped clean his ears after a bath. “It’s not your fault. Some children just refuse the names you give them.”

That sounded like Twelve logic, but Annie nodded and finished packaging the fish for her. It was the usual thank you gift for the older woman helping out with her son.

“Katniss is coming.”

She regretted saying it almost immediately. Annie knew Katniss and Lillian didn’t speak. It seemed there were very few people Katniss spoke to these days. Johanna said she visited Haymitch, but hadn’t been able to get into the house Peeta and Katniss shared. But they all knew Lillian’s letters to Twelve were answered in Peeta’s hand.

“Here?” Lilian’s voice was even, but tight.

“No- the film screening in the old capital.” She concentrated hard on the twine around the packaging. “I think they finally got her to interview a few months back, so she’s coming up to see it with Peeta and Haymitch.”

Lilian said nothing for awhile. Annie finished packaging the fish and traded them for John.

“There you are…” He giggled when she tugged on a bit of his hair- more auburn now as it grew out. “Couldn’t find you under all that dirt.”

“I don’t think I’ll be going to the screening.”

Annie was afraid of that. She nodded and bounced John a little to keep him smiling.

“I’m sure the hospital still needs every hand it can get.”

“Yes. Absolutely. I couldn’t possibly be gone for days when they need the help so badly.”

Annie nodded again. She understood. It was good to be needed.

~

Annie’s favorite days were the ones where she could stay in the house. She would spend hours in bed, letting John nap or play quietly beside her. She liked to watch him with no other distractions or draws on her attention. His babbling was starting to form words. “Self,” was his favorite so far. He liked trying to do things on his own, even if he rarely succeeded. She was both terrified and delighted that he seemed to be developing his own personality more quickly than she would have expected. She had always thought of babies and young children as mostly interchangeable. But she was sure other children of his age weren’t nearly this quiet but stubborn.

His hair was getting darker and she tried not to be too disappointed. But maybe it was better that way. Like the name, the more she could separate him from his father, the easier it was to love him as his own person.

~

Katniss was even more stiff than Annie remembered her. She entertained herself by making sure to make her hold John as much as possible. It was funny to see her standing stiff as a board, arms angular and tight on his happily squirming body. Annie would feel bad about it later, but it was too amusing in the moment to pass up.

Peeta, on the other hand, was great with John.

“He’s huge! When did this happen?”

John laughed and screamed as Peeta swung him into the air. Katniss’s entire body made an involuntary motion as if to stop him and Annie tried not to laugh aloud at her expression of sheer terror.

“I ‘member you! I ‘member you!”

“Yeah, I remember you too, Buddy!”

“His name is John.” Annie was just used to saying it. She’d given up actually trying to get anyone to use his given name. The personalization felt right anyway.

“You mind me calling you ‘Buddy’?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Well, the king has spoken.” Peeta set him back down. “Lookin great, Annie.”

“It’s good to see you two.”

It felt different with the other Victors visiting. Peeta could feel it, she could tell. He kept glancing between Annie and Katniss like he almost expected a fight. Katniss had never been to Four before, and it was like she took an air of unnecessary formality with her. It would be funny if Annie could think of anything to say.

“Would you like something to eat?”

“We ate on the train.”

“Oh. Well- why don’t you rest up a minute while I take John into town?”

Peeta glanced at Katniss quickly. She looked away.

“I- uh- I was sort of thinking Johnny could come with us. I haven’t seen the bug in ages.”

Katniss didn’t look up from folding her jacket over her arm. They had clearly already talked about this. Fought about this. Annie was already trying to think of a way out of spending more time with them like this.

“You were.”

“Yeah.” Peeta shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“I mean- Haymitch offered to look after him. He doesn’t like these big crowded things anyway.”

Annie nodded slowly. She didn’t really have a reason to protest.

“Sure. I’ll just have to call- the sitter.” She didn’t think she should mention Katniss’s mother.

Annie tried not to notice that Peeta moved towards Katniss once she was occupied with the phone. Or that Katniss moved deliberately away. There was a fight here she did not want to get involved with.

“Hi- yeah. I changed my mind. So I appreciate you offering up your week, but I’m taking Johnny with.”

“Oh. Well- thank you for calling, Annie.”

A pause. Annie knew what was coming, but still didn’t know if she wanted to hear it in Lillian’s smooth, mostly broken voice.

“How is she?”

“Oh- you know.” She didn’t know what else to say, especially with Katniss still sitting at her counter.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

They left on the first train they could. Katniss drew stares on the platform and shrugged off Peeta’s arm when he tried to put it around her. Annie strode out ahead with John and found them an empty compartment. The trains had been repurposed for wider use. This one smelled like coal.

Katniss looked out of the window for most of the journey. Annie, always exhausted by travel, slipped in and out of sleep. Normally, this would make her nervous. But Peeta was attentive enough to allow her not to worry about John at all.

She woke up somewhere in the mountains after the sun had set to just find Katniss in their compartment.

“Where’s-“

“Peeta took John to the bathroom half a minute ago.”

“Oh- thanks.” She wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. “He’s such a help.”

Katniss nodded and they were quiet for a moment.

“He wants children.”

Annie looked up from the window. She had no idea what to say to this. She didn’t even know the true nature of their relationship- not really. She knew what it looked like. But so had everyone. For years. So she didn’t like to assume she knew anything.

“Oh. And you…?”

“I can’t.” Her voice was tight and she took a few breaths before going on. “Not- I mean- Physically- I don’t know. I assume I _could_. But I—“ she swallowed and stared determinedly out the window—“he… he would be such a good father.”

Annie still had no idea what she could possibly say to this. She nodded slowly.

“Finnick would have been too.”

“So you’re saying-“

“I’m not saying anything. You blindsided me so I’m babbling to buy time.”

This startled a smile out of her at least. Annie thought about it for awhile and wondered if she had ever seen a natural smile from the younger woman. Probably not.

“You shouldn’t unless you want to.”

Katniss stared at her, clearly waiting for her to go on. When Annie didn’t, she snorted.

“That’s all you’ve got?”

“I’m full of motherly wisdom.”

“That was pretty good.”

The silence was much more comfortable this time. Annie watched Katniss, considering her seriously for the first time. She knew that most of the nation saw her as a symbol and leader. Someone who was grave and inspiring and somehow greater than the average young woman. Annie was having a hard time seeing that on the seat across from her. Katniss’s hair was dull and thin and there were cracks in her hands and dirt under her nails. She pulled at peeling skin on her lips and there were thin places in her high brows. She bounced her knee every time someone walked by their compartment and did a doubletake through the frosted window.

“Really… I can’t tell you what to do- and I don’t think you want me to. Are you just asking because I’m the only person you know with a child?”

Katniss also shrugged and hugged her old leather jacket around herself when she was uncomfortable.

“You know, I used to talk to Finnick when I was trying to figure out how I felt about… things. Mostly Peeta.”

Annie was getting tired of having no idea what to say during this conversation.

“I didn’t know that.”

“You two were the only couple I knew who didn’t secretly hate each other.”

Annie tried to fight a smile. “High praise.”

“Well, you were also kind of sickening about it, so I’m not about to aspire to it.”

“You sound like Johanna.”

Katniss grimaced, then chewed her nail a moment. She was clearly working up the nerve to say something. Annie could feel her lip start to sweat. She had no idea what Katniss was thinking about, but she was sure that, whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it. There was fear rolling off the younger woman in waves, like heat from an oven. If Annie watched closely, she could see her hands shaking.

“I… I killed him.” Katniss’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I know they would say it’s- it’s survivor’s guilt. But- I- I know it won’t do anything but make you hate me but- I- I have to tell you.”

Annie didn’t bother trying to think of anything to say to this. The words didn’t feel real. Like Katniss was speaking another language. Like she could pretend what she was trying to communicate didn’t actually mean anything. She was relieved when the door to the compartment slid open.

“Sorry we took so long. This guy made a friend.”

John climbed up onto her lap. “Big kitty.”

“It was a dog, but close enough.” Peeta sat next to Katniss and tried to wrap an arm around her, but she stood up abruptly and left the compartment.


	33. Documentary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this and following until the end. It means a lot to me that you've kept up for this long. Keep rockin and be good to each other.

They were invited to stay in the president’s mansion. It looked different from the last time they had all been there. Annie tried not to notice how pale Peeta grew as they stepped through the halls. Even with the fresh paint and lack of opulent décor, there were still too many memories in this place. Katniss walked close to him and even let him hold her hand. Annie followed a few steps behind them. She tried not to watch them, but it was more than a little hard to pretend not to see the blond man’s shoulders shiver.

“Miss Everdeen, Mr. Melark, Mrs. Odair.”

The president gave them a deep, respectful nod.

“Cresta.”

The president, to her credit, did not blink. “Ms. Cresta. Welcome. Would you like to see the gardens?”

It seemed like an overly postured gesture, having the most important woman in the new world show them around the mansion personally. Like no matter how important she was, they wanted to assure people that she was not too high and mighty for petty social obligations. Annie wasn’t sure if she appreciated it, or felt suspicious of the performative nature of the action.

“We won’t be staying here.” Peeta finally ejected the words from between his clenched teeth. Katniss slid a hand down his arm to tangle their fingers.

“Of course not. We have reservations made for you at-“

“Well, look who it is!”

Haymitch looked like he had already started drinking in earnest. Johanna did too, but didn’t seem nearly as far gone. Annie shifted John on her hip. Haymitch leaned in to kiss her cheek before moving on to his two district mates.

“Hey kids, hey-“

Katniss remained stiff, but Peeta put a hand on Haymitch’s arm to steady him.

“There’s Jackie-“ Johanna lurched towards them and mimed biting at the boy’s ear. John shrieked and giggled, but Annie moved away, tightening her hold on him. “How’re we? How’s Jackie and Mama?”

“Fine. Tired.”

“Let me show you the gardens, Ms. Cresta.”

Annie followed the president and didn’t look over her shoulder until they were almost to the end of the hall. She risked a glance to see Katniss leaning away from an overly affectionate Johanna and Peeta helping Haymitch to sit at a bench against the wall.

“When did those two arrive?”

“Haymitch this morning. Johanna last week. Effie Trinket has been trying to reform her.”

Annie laughed at the image this conjured. She was slowly growing to like the president’s personal assistant, even if she could only take the flamboyant woman in small doses.

“Do you have plans for your son during the screening?”

“Haymitch is watching him.” Annie realized a moment too late how this sounded- as they walked away from the stumbling drunk man. “Ah-“

“That would be why Miss Trinket said she would be accompanying him for the day and would not attend the screening itself.”

Annie was starting to think that the president’s true talent was knowing how to talk around things gracefully. It must be useful, especially in her position.

~

Annie didn't know what she had expected from the movie. But it wasn't what she saw. There was a lot more of the B-roll than she had been expecting. Images of the outdoors in each district were played with either the voice of one of the victors answering a question or Cressida narrating.

Maybe Annie had been afraid of entire lengths of time devoted to a single shot of her rambling in her chair. But even the section devoted to her introduction focused more on the district while her voice served as sound.

"My name is Annie Cresta and I am the district Four Victor of the 70th annual Hunger Games."

Annie tried not to notice as several people around her shifted in their seats, trying to get a nonchalant look at her. She wondered how they expected her to react. Smiling in vanity? Too mad to remember the interview? Or perhaps so far gone as to not recognize herself.

It was amazing how Cressida and Pollux had managed to make the ruined districts look beautiful. Really, she could only speak to Four, and the ruin it had become. But she was fascinated in the way the B-roll did not hide the filth and destruction, but still shot the sun creeping through the palm leaves and the water sparkling just past the end of the docks. It both felt right and false. Right because she recognized every sight. Wrong because Annie knew that if she stood where the camera had, she would never be able to catch such a beautiful moment.

"Everyone daydreamed about the Games. Everyone did at least a little. But even in the careers barely anyone took it seriously. Almost no one cared beyond summer. It was a seasonal thing. In winter, you watch the fire. In summer, you watch the Games."

A ripple went through the crowd at Katniss’s first appearance. Annie saw the woman in question tense in her seat. She was surprised that she had even made an appearance in the documentary. Annie had expected her to be referred to only by others. But she spoke like the others, no more or less.

“My name is Katniss Everdeen. District Twelve. Victor of the 74th annual Hunger Games. And the face of the rebellion. The Mockingjay.”

Some of the audience, the ones who had never actually met Katniss, shifted and murmured to one another at her footage. Annie understood. She was so much less regal and grave when she held no weapons. She had never idolized the girl the way some people did, so the shattering of the illusion had been less jarring to her.

“I didn’t- didn’t do any of it on purpose. I just- did. And then people turned it into something bigger.”

They moved on to introduce each Victor before delving into their personal stories.

"No one expects a Three Victor." Beatee didn't look at the camera or at the filmmakers behind it. Annie was surprised that they didn't use all B-roll for his answers. "I- I, uhh, used that to my advantage. By the time they, um, the careers- by the time they were listing me among those left before they could turn to one another, my plan was already in place."

"Some people think out was an act, some think the Games changed me-" Johanna waved her hand in that meant-to-be-careless way she had. She’d tried to mention casually to Annie after she decided to actually grant the interview. "Doesn't matter. Comes out the same. I went in the arena and got myself out. All you gotta know."

They used very little of the footage from the Games. Mostly closeups. Nothing that was played often—moments of crisis or a kill—but the quiet moments. Shots that made them all look very young.

"They fucked us." Some people flinched. Enobaria told this part and Annie couldn't decide if that made it worse or better. "The fit ones at least. But most got a turn or two. Most. Cuz some got their families killed right away. Abernathy, I think. They didn't have to threaten me. People knew in Two. Maybe not really. But it was always there. And it was part of it. Part of what made is _want_ it. People paying to touch you- come on. We were _worshipped_. And we were all just learning how to fuck anyway. It was like being a fucking God."

A general murmur of dissent and disgust amongst the crowd. Somehow, half the audience seemed comfortable in putting the hate for all the selling on the angular, smirking woman on screen.

"That was another fun little detail about the mentoring." Haymitch had never looked worse. "They could survive. They could get through the blood and death of it. But they'd wish they hadn't made it. And there was no way to tell them that. Nothing you can say to a kid to convince them they'd wish they were dead. Kids are like that."

"We were children." Annie thought using the b-roll of her laying John down to bed under the track of her voice was a little on the nose, but it was certainly effective. "It didn't feel like it at the time. But we were. And I think a lot of us still are. It gets you stuck, going through that. Stuck in the arena with half ourselves while the other half tries to move along. It’s horrible to go through, and worse to watch someone else.”

It went on for a long time, but Annie found she was not waiting for an end. It felt comfortable in the dark, squirming and shifting at the uncomfortable parts while crying silently at different moments that made them think of different people and things that had happened. They all had unique experiences that no one else could understand, but in that, they understood and felt close.

“It was me.”

She had been waiting for this part. The crowd around her shifted again, unsure if they had understood correctly. No one wanted to admit that this was what they were waiting for. Proof of Annie Cresta’s instability and violence. They probably weren’t expecting a full confession.

“We were all up front. We were the closest to him. It was easy.”

Annie frowned. She didn’t expect Johanna to speak on this.

“It was easy. I always carry a knife, and they didn’t check us. They probably should have.”

“I didn’t know what Katniss was going to do, but I knew he had to die.” Peeta’s voice was steady. “I always carry a pocket knife. I killed Snow.”

“I killed the fucker cuz it’s probably the last one I’ll get to.”

This was getting ridiculous. Annie scowled as Enobaria smugly claimed credit for Snow’s death as well. Johanna, Peeta, Enobaria, Haymitch and even Beatee all declared themselves the true killer of the old president. Next to her, Johanna leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“We got your back, Baby. Even if you don’t got your own.”

The crowd all talked about what a brilliant piece of art it was while still preserving history as the crowd made its way out of the theater. Each district appreciated the way the B-roll characterized their home spirit.

“That was stupid.” Annie let Joanna link her arm with hers, but still scowled as they made their way back to the hotel. “It was an _execution_. It’s not like they would have pressed charges.”

“Oh well we couldn’t have let you take _all_ the glory.”

“Stop it. Did Cressida show-“

“Of course not.” Annie didn’t even need to look to know Johanna was rolling her eyes. “She has far too much artistic integrity to tarnish the authenticity of her work.”

“You sound like you asked to see someone else’s footage.”

“And how would _you_ know how Cressida responds to one subject asking to see another subject’s footage before the project was completed?”

Annie scowled at the street around them for a few moments.

“It was still pointless. That documentary was supposed to be about the truth. And you all lied. Why?”

“Cuz Crazy Cresta needs a few allies. It’s just us now, Honey.” Johanna hugged Annie’s arm closer to her. “No one’s gunna fuck with all of us together, are they?”

Annie rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. The Capital around them was cold and grey. Johanna was bony and warm up against her. She could see few stars above them in the city lights, but it felt right. The concrete under them was straight and smooth. John was waiting at the hotel with Haymitch and Effie, and she was only a little worried. The next day they would take the train home.


End file.
